


Three Strikes and You're (Hopefully Not) Out

by AlmostUnderground



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anxiety, Bed-Wetting, Episode: s06e02 The Incident, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Season/Series 06, Wetting, im so so sorry, no one asked for this at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23475868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlmostUnderground/pseuds/AlmostUnderground
Summary: The second time it happened, Patrick was the first to wake up.*Or, much to David's horror, the "incident" wasn't just a one-time thing.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 72
Kudos: 376





	1. You Don't Owe Me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm... so sorry.

The second time it happened, Patrick was the first to wake up. The sun was just starting to illuminate the tiny apartment with a warm golden sheen, the two of them tucked safely under the covers. Patrick didn’t really remember what he was dreaming about when he woke up, his head still a little heavy from the wine they'd had the night before. It was early, though, which he recognized almost immediately.

His head was still groggy with sleep as he shifted his body towards David, watching under the soft lighting as his almost-husband's chest rose evenly in his deep sleep. Below the comfort of the warm blankets, Patrick could’ve fall directly back to sleep. That was if he hadn’t noticed, as he shifted towards his fiancé, that the sheets below them were cold and damp. Patrick’s heart sunk. He felt a blush creeping up his neck as he let a hand slip below the blankets, making sure that is wasn’t _blood_ or a _spill_. He was almost certain it was, yet again, neither of those things. He was still basically asleep as he gently rolled back over to his side, grabbing his phone to check the time. _6:45 am._ It was a Sunday, and they still had several more hours of sleep before opening the store. Patrick held in a sigh, knowing that this wasn’t what David wanted to be woken up to. He wanted coffee and pastries. He didn’t want this.

“David, baby, wake up,” Patrick whispered, sitting up ever so slightly and caressing a hand across the shoulder that was closest to him. David only stirred slightly, his eyes staying closed.

“Okay. One minute,” he replied, his voice thick with sleep. Patrick wouldn’t be surprised if David was also feeling the effects of a little too much wine from the night before. Well, obviously he was feeling _one_ unfortunate effect. Patrick tried waking him again, this time a little louder. When David’s eyes finally opened and recognized Patrick’s face, he smiled, before he almost immediately stiffened.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, looking everywhere but Patrick’s face. Patrick did his best to interrupt before David went on another self-degrading tangent.

“It’s okay, hey, look at me. You’re fine. We had a lot to drink last night,” Patrick tried to assure him. David was fully awake now, sitting up, frantically trying to run away. Patrick didn’t stop him when he stood, pulling the comforter around his waist again and shuffling backwards. This time there was no underlying humor to any of this, however. This time David’s eyes were glossy, and he was basically vomiting apologies.

“I’m so sorry, oh my God. What is _wrong_ with me,” he nearly yelled, still backing away from Patrick. Patrick was standing too at this point, ignoring how the right side of his own pajama bottoms were damp and gently tried to usher his frantic fiancé into the tiny bathroom.

“Nothing is wrong with you, David. It was an accident.” Patrick said, putting his hands on David’s shoulders, attempting to gain his gaze again. Patrick had to shallow the lump in his own throat as he watched David’s eyes finally spill over.

“Oh my God, please don’t say that word,” David said.

“Go take a shower. I’ll do the sheets. It’s okay, really,” Patrick said, ignoring what David had just said. After a sad moment, David nodded, handing over the comforter that he had been clinging onto for dear life and closing the bathroom door as quickly as humanly possible.

Finally, Patrick let out a very long, very deep sigh. Patrick set a pair of David’s pajamas on the bathroom counter as soon as he heard the water start to run and went to go work on the bed.

When David emerged almost an hour later, Patrick had put new sheets on the bed and started the coffee. He was dressed in a new pair of pajamas’, hoping that David would want to sleep for a few more hours still.

“Hey,” Patrick said as soon as David made eye contact with him. He had another towel wrapped around his head and was wearing the clothes that Patrick had laid out for him. Patrick had never seen David look so _defeated_ before.

“So, I guess this is something you’re going to make me talk about,” David said, trying very hard to keep his voice under control. His eyes were obviously red.

“I think we should, yes. But I also think it’s barely eight in the morning, and I’d like to get a few more hours of sleep,” Patrick said, keeping his face friendly. He was smiling enough for both of them.

“You can sleep. Of course. I don’t think I’ll be able to, though. Sorry,” David responded, sitting at the end of the couch. There was an odd sort of tension between them that Patrick _hated_. He wanted nothing more than to run over to him and wrap him in a big hug, tell him that he didn’t care. That he’d never care. That he’d always love him, no matter what. But he also knew David. And he knew that’s exactly what David didn’t want.

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay. I’ll stay up, if that’s what you want,” Patrick responded. He just wanted to see David smile again. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen him so upset. Over _anything_. Not even the first time this had happened.

“No. Go back to sleep, please. I think I’m going to go for a run, actually,” David responded quickly, standing to go towards their dresser, pulling out some more appropriate attire.

“You don’t run,” Patrick said without any hesitation.

“Today, I do. I’ll be back in an hour or so,” he replied, pulling on a black sweater and feigning his best smile. He wasn’t fooling Patrick in the slightest. Patrick nodded anyways, starting to get back under the sheets. The new, clean sheets.

“Take as much time as you need. I’ll be here,” Patrick said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” David responded through a thin, fake smile, before shutting off the lights and leaving his fiancé alone in the semi-darkness. Patrick, still feeling the effects of a wine induced hangover, fell asleep within minutes. David, on the other hand, spent twenty minutes in the café’s bathroom trying to wipe the embarrassed tears from his cheeks that wouldn’t fucking stop falling.

*

Patrick was awake when David got back, exactly one hour after leaving. Patrick didn’t expect him to be punctual _now_ of all times. David’s cheeks were flushed and for a second Patrick almost believed that he went for a run, but it was a warm morning and there was not a drop of sweat on David’s complexation. Patrick was already dressed, sitting at the edge of his bed and putting on his shoes, planning to go out and get them some breakfast. He smiled when he saw that David, holding a brown carry-out bag, had beaten him to the punch.

“Muffins. And fruit. Figured you might be hungry,” David said, gesturing to the bag and setting his sunglasses and the food onto the dining table. He didn’t sit down like Patrick expected, and instead sort of just hovered around the bed, not really knowing what to do with his hands. His eyes weren’t red now, and he at least looked like himself.

“Thank you, David. You didn’t have to do that,” Patrick responded, standing as soon as he finished lacing up the final shoe. He brushed a hand across David’s back as he passed, kissing his cheek lightly. Patrick’s heart absolutely sank when he felt David flinch ever-so-slightly.

“You’re welcome. I owe you,” David responded with a forced smile, still standing. Patrick bit into a muffin with gratitude, sitting in one of the chairs and tucking a napkin onto his lap.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said casually in-between bites. David did that thing Patrick secretly found absolutely adorable where he looked like his eyes were about to roll back into his brain. David was still so flustered. Normally, Patrick loved when he was flustered. He loved to press kisses to his blushed cheeks. He loved to suck onto his warm neck and leave him marked up and all his. But right now, David wasn’t flushed like he was normally was. He was flushed like an atom bomb, just waiting to be diffused.

“See, the thing is, I kind of feel like I do. Because I thought that last week was a one-time thing. Like a completely out of the blue, never going to happen ever again kind of moment. And now I’m feeling like I need to be medically diagnosed,” David said, rushed and like he’d planned out exactly what to say. Patrick hadn’t been counting, but the _incident_ had been almost exactly a week ago. It had been almost a week since his fiancé seriously brought up _divorce_ because of a wet bed.

“We had a lot to drink last night, David,” Patrick tried to defend, muffin crumbs all over his fingers. The fact that David wasn’t eating was a little bit worrisome. Patrick almost never ate without David eating with him. It felt wrong. He set down the blueberry muffin onto the napkin, deciding to wait for him.

“Okay. But I didn’t the first time. And if we’re going by that logic, you should’ve pissed yourself too,” David deflected. He was getting restless and was clearly on edge, his hands resting on the sides of his face anxiously. Patrick stood up and crossed to him quickly, taking both his hands in his and pulling them down. He didn’t start speaking until David was staring back at him.

“We don’t need to talk about it, okay? It was just a bad night. We can just pretend it never happened,” he said with so much honesty in his voice that David melted. Patrick’s thumb stroked the rings on David’s left hand and David felt that familiar knot in his throat from that morning creeping its way back up. Patrick could always calm him down. He could always fix what was wrong. David wanted to cry all over again just because of the way Patrick was looking at him; like nothing in the world mattered. Nothing at all.

“Can you please just promise that my mom will never hear about this,” David finally said after a moment of just touching hands. Patrick let out a tight laugh, bringing David’s hands to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against his knuckles, teeth showing.

“I would never say a word to your mother, cross my heart.”

*

That night as they got into bed, Patrick wrapped his arms around David, his head resting in the crook of his neck, breathing in the soft cotton smell of his t-shirt. He stayed awake for a long time, just listening, and waiting for David to fall asleep. But even after an hour, David’s body was stiff, and his breathing was too shallow for him to be asleep.

“Baby, go to bed,” Patrick finally whispered into his neck after a few more minutes of both of them pretending to be asleep. David’s breath hitched, and for a terrifying moment, Patrick thought that he might be crying. But instead, David turned towards him, wrapping his own arms around Patrick and pulling him in closer. They were face to face, but it was too dark to see either of them clearly. David leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Patrick’s nose. It was so light it was like being kissed by a ghost, but Patrick’s heart still raced.

“Okay,” David replied after a long time.

They were both dead asleep in minutes.

*

The third time it happened, only two days later, David woke Patrick up with a start as he rushed off into the bathroom before Patrick’s eyes were even fully opened. Patrick didn’t really know what to do, sitting in a wet bed as the shower started to run. At least this time it was a reasonable hour, and Patrick stripped the bed quickly, falling into a routine he never thought he’d need. Looking miserably towards the now bleached mattress, he realized that he was out of clean sheets. He decided to just throw a picnic blanket over the mattress and hope David wouldn’t notice.

David took a quick shower this time, anxious to be clean, but also anxious about having to face the fiancé he just abandoned in a pee-stained bed. He scrubbed his skin raw and threw on a few sprays of his after shave before leaving the bathroom in a robe. He wasn’t crying this time. He couldn’t. He felt like a broken toy as he left the bathroom and was about to ask Patrick if divorce was _back_ on the table when Patrick spoke first.

“You don’t need to say anything,” he rushed out. David eyed the bed. “The sheets are still in the wash,” Patrick said, catching David’s gaze and standing.

“Oh my God. I’ve ruined all of your sheets. Wonderful. Just, wow. That’s great,” David said in disbelief and what Patrick could only pin as disgust. David didn’t move from where he stood. He just really, really couldn’t.

“They’re not ruined. They can be washed,” Patrick argued. David only huffed in response and looked around the room, trying to find his words.

“I’m sorry that I ran away. I just… I had to shower. I’m sorry,” David apologized, feeling very exposed in just his robe. His legs burned from how hard he had been scrubbing them.

“I get it. It’s fine,” Patrick said, just as calm and collected as always. “Do you want to talk?” Patrick offered, taking a step towards David. That’s when David finally lost it. Tears welled quickly in his eyes and he pressed his lips together, shaking his head until eventually it turned into a nod. He felt sick. Absolutely sick to his stomach.

“Okay. Why don’t I make us some breakfast and you get dressed? Then we’ll talk.”

And they did just that, Patrick whipping up some eggs and toast as David finished his morning routine and dressed in his outfit for the day. They ate without speaking, listening to a playlist Stevie had made David for his birthday. There was a pit the size of a grapefruit in David’s stomach the entire time they ate, and he finished as quickly as he could. There was a brief moment where he thought he might actually be sick as Patrick cleared their plates. Once they were cleaned, David sat on the couch, waiting for Patrick to join him. He thought, briefly, about just getting up and making a break for it. Never looking back. Selling the engagement rings at a pawn shop and moving to New York. Starting over without Patrick. But then he saw the way Patrick was looking at him; the same as he always did. Like nothing had changed.

“Okay. Talk. What’s going on,” Patrick said, sitting down and pausing the music from his phone. With nothing else to listen to but his own thoughts, David just wanted to scream. Or cry. Or run. Yeah, he really just wanted to run. But Patrick was patient and waited for David’s slow reply. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer this time, so David talked.

“I guess I… I used to have a problem. With this. I don’t think it fully stopped until I was like… sixteen. Which is really embarrassing, obviously. Oh my God, I can’t believe I just admitted that. But now it just happens sometimes. Literally only ever once in a blue moon. It doesn’t normally happen like this. I swear,” David said, his voice was so soft and pleading that Patrick felt as though he’d just been stepped on.

“Okay. Okay. So, what do you want to do?” Patrick asked, seemingly unfazed by all of this information. David looked very still.

“I don’t know,” he responded after a moment of consideration.

“Okay. Then… lets wait, alright? See what happens? This is probably just a weird fluke,” Patrick assured, smiling with his mouth closed. David didn’t like the implications of _see what happens,_ but he’d never in his life felt so comfortable talking about something so ridiculous and embarrassing that he didn’t want to push his luck. So, he just nodded. He nodded until his throat closed up again and he felt himself want to cry.

“Come here,” Patrick ordered as soon as David’s face began to twist, and his eyes became glossy. David leaned into this touch desperately, soaking in his sent and the fabric softener he used on his blue button down like it was his oxygen. He let Patrick engulf him.

“This is not a big deal to me. Not now, not ever. I love you, David.”

David only cried harder. He didn’t feel like he deserved any part of this love story he’d became wrapped up in.

*

David wasn’t surprised at all when he heard the familiar crinkle of that fucking mattress pad beneath him when he crawled into Patrick’s bed the next night. He didn’t say anything. He just curled into himself and let Patrick spoon him. He had seen enough baseball games with Patrick at this point to know that _3 strikes mean you’re out_. He prayed to whatever God there was out there that Patrick would let that rule slide.


	2. All Of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! thanks for all the support already. i know this is a little out of the box for some readers, but i'm in quarantine and need to do something with my creative juices! this chapter has a little less patrick but a little bit of lexis. enjoy :)

David hated waking up now. He used to love waking up. He loved turning his head to see Patrick next to him in the mornings, head pressed into his chest, quietly breathing deep and slow. He used to love watching him wake up, watching as Patrick found his face in the morning light and kissed him on the head. Now, when David woke up, his anxiety was what he woke up to. Now when he woke up, he couldn’t even look over at his fiancé without working himself up into a panic attack.

David woke up to a dry bed, which _should not_ feel like an accomplishment, but his chest was still heavy, and he couldn’t breathe. It was still dark outside. Thunder rolled deeply from outside the window as he laid awake, a light rain hitting the panels. He laid awake for a while, just staring up at the ceiling and willing himself to not get worked up over literally nothing. He failed, eventually waking up Patrick with his uneven breathing.

When Patrick woke up to David’s difficult breathing, his hand immediately felt under the covers, assuming the worst. Feeling assured that there wasn’t an immediate need to do a load of laundry, he reached over to David, putting an arm around his side and rubbing his chest.

“What’s the matter? Bad dream?” he asked, feeling David’s chest rise and fall alarming quickly.

“No. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” David said lowly, allowing Patrick’s hands to calm him down. Patrick kissed the bottom of David’s neck in response.

“Deep breathes,” Patrick ordered when he noticed David’s breathing only getting worse.

“Trying,” David croaked out, sucking in through his nose and pushing out through his mouth.

“Good,” Patrick hummed, rubbing circles into David’s back with his other hand.

Eventually, David’s breathing evened out, and Patrick’s hands stilled, falling back asleep. Listening to the soft sounds of rain falling outside the window, David fell asleep too.

*

The next time David woke up, the rain had stopped, and Patrick wasn’t next to him. He reached for his phone to check the time, shifting under the covers just enough to feel his wet pajama’s cling to his thighs. He wanted to vomit. _10 am._ This was two nights in a row.

David looked around the apartment as he stood, searching for Patrick. He must’ve let him sleep in, which was obviously a mistake. After looking in all four corners, David decided that Patrick was not home. He stripped the bed quickly, cleaning off the mattress protector that he was both disgusted by and thankful for. The laundry room was shared, and in the basement of the apartment building. And David had no idea how to use it the old washers they had. He left the pile of sheets and his bottoms on the bed, deciding to take a quick shower before starting the laundry. As he passed the kitchen, he noticed a sticky note on the fridge.

_I thought I’d let you sleep in. You just looked so peaceful. I’m at the store. Love you. -P_

David’s face flushed reading the note. Patrick was at their store, working, while David was at home, wetting the bed. He wanted to be buried alive.

He sent Patrick a quick text, telling him he’d be in in an hour. With that time frame in mind, he showered. Once he at least didn’t _physically_ feel disgusting, he tackled the sheets, throwing them into a white garbage bag and heading down to the laundry room, his face burning the entire time. He felt like a little kid, trying not to get caught by his parents.

After embarrassingly having to watch a YouTube tutorial about how to properly wash sheets, he was done within the hour. He put the bedding in the dryer and decided to leave it until he could get back. He’d just make some kind of excuse and take a long lunch break, head back to the apartment, and make the bed before Patrick could see what he’d done. Despite the time he’d saved by doing that, he was still already late.

David was oddly proud of himself for how quickly he sorted everything out, despite the circumstances. Ignoring the tightness in his throat, David left for the store.

*

Patrick smiled at David as he entered the store before returning his attention to the customer he was checking out. As soon as the customer had left, David came up from behind Patrick, kissing his cheek and setting his bag down in the back room.

“You’re late,” Patrick said as soon as David reemerged.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, cheeks flushed. David only added about half an hour to the schedule.

“Sorry I didn’t wake you up this morning. You looked like you needed the extra hours,” Patrick said, watching as David rearranged the applesauce’s that were perfectly fine the way they were.

“Well, _thank you_ ,” David responded. There was no bite in his voice, however. He knew what Patrick meant.

“I just meant because you didn’t sleep well last night,” Patrick defended. David stopped touching everything to look at him.

“I know. And no, I don’t want to talk about it,” he said quickly. Patrick knew that David got panic attacks sometimes, he’d just never had to see David get as bad as he had gotten last night. _Over nothing._

“Thought you might say that,” Patrick said.

“You can go to lunch now, if you want. I’ll watch the store,” David said after a moment of silence. It was almost noon, and David honestly didn’t want to do this whole dancing around topics thing that they’d been doing for a week now. Some alone time in the store might be good for him.

“Are you sure you’ll survive?” Patrick asked playfully, already grabbing his wallet.

“I think I’ll manage, thanks,” David responded, moving behind to counter to take Patrick’s place. Patrick pressed a kiss onto David’s lips as he headed for the door, short and sweet.

“I’m just going to stop by the apartment. I forgot my packed lunch at home, so I’ll be back in no time,” Patrick said, walking out the door.

David didn’t have time to say anything in return, and he, once again, felt like running.

David considered for a moment just texting Patrick and admitting what he had done, but something about that felt even more pathetic than Patrick finding the stripped bed and smell of cleaning products on his own. Then he thought maybe he should text Stevie and ask her to watch the store while he cried in the bathroom. He even considered calling _Alexis_ and begging her to come just to _talk_ to him. Because David was seriously about to lose his shit.

He would’ve had another full-blown panic attack if a couple hadn’t walked in and David was forced push all of those thoughts to the back of his mind, deciding to be a good salesperson instead.

Patrick returned, like he’d promised, in no time. David was alone in the store at the counter, phone in hand, pretending like he didn’t notice that it was Patrick who had walked in. He came up to the counter and set a lunch bag in front of David.

“Hungry?” is the first thing Patrick said. David really didn’t want to look up. Didn’t want Patrick to see how red he was. How his breathing was getting faster.

“Thank you,” he said, looking up briefly and catching Patrick’s eyes before looking back down at his screen. It was just his text chain with Stevie. They weren’t even texting, he just needed something to look at. Patrick didn’t break the eye contact, and instead continued to stare at David until eventually David was forced to return his gaze.

“Were you going to tell me?” Patrick asked as soon as David finally closed his phone. David wanted to _die._

“Yes,” he muttered after a moment, very unsure. Patrick didn’t look at all convinced. To be fair, David wasn’t at all convinced.

“I’m not mad, David. Really. But I would like you to be honest with me,” Patrick said. David felt almost like he was being scolded by his parents. This exact conversation is one that his mom had had with him more than once as a teenager. He was so, _so_ flushed. David bit back the fear that rose inside of him.

“Do we have any bleach?” David asked after a second of silence.

“Why?”

“To drink,” David responded, lifting his elbows from the counter and starting to open up the lunch bag David had packed him. Everyday this situation reminded him more and more of his childhood.

“Very funny,” Patrick said, pretending not to smile as he grabbed the inventory list, “I am proud of you, though. I didn’t think you knew how to work a washing machine.”

“Oh my _God_.”

*

David made up a very obvious excuse of a family dinner that night, telling Patrick that he was just going to stay at the Motel. It was just _easier,_ David had said. And it wasn’t entirely a lie. They ate at the café, like they always did. So really, David was only extending the truth a little bit because Patrick was out of clean sheets and David wasn’t sure if he could handle ruining his bed for a third night in a row.

“How is _Patrick_?” Moira asked David as soon as he finished telling her about a movie the two of them had watched a couple of nights prior.

“He’s good, mom,” he responded, looking back to his plate that was now just fries.

“Why are you not staying at his place tonight?” she pushed. David rolled his eyes. “You two aren’t fighting still, are you?”

“When were we fighting?” David asked in between fries.

“That little tift you two were engaged in last week about the nighttime oopsie,” Moira corrected. David tried really hard to ignore how Alexis chocked on a bite of salad and how his father’s eyebrows lowered, pretending like he hadn’t heard what they were talking about.

“Yeah, David, how _is_ that going?” Alexis pushed, taunting.

“Mm-hmm, yeah, we’re not doing _this_ ,” David said, standing.

“Where are you going?” Moira asked as David started to walk away.

“To the bathroom, mom,” he responded, getting as far away from the table as possible before he could hear whatever response they had in store for him.

David invited Stevie over to his room that night, hoping that she could serve as some sort of distraction from everything in his life. Alexis had plans with Twyla until late so David and Stevie had the whole room to themselves. They were on their fourth episode of _The Great British Bake Off,_ both of them sharing a bottle of red, when David got up to pee for the third time.

“Are you okay?” Stevie finally asked after David returned, hands still wet.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, wiping his wet hands on his sweater and sitting back down on his bed with her. She didn’t question him again, probably too invested in the show to really care that much. David let her finish the bottle, and by eleven, he was in bed. Alone. And suddenly regretting every decision he’d ever made. He wanted nothing more than for Patrick to be beside him, holding him. Kissing him. He pulled out his phone and dialed Patrick’s number without really thinking.

 _“Hello?”_ Patrick answered. He sounded tired, but not like he had just been asleep.

“Hey,” David responded, feeling, again, like a kid.

 _“Is something wrong?”_ Patrick asked, which made David feel even worse.

“No. No, I just… I wanted to say goodnight,” David said, keeping his voice low so that his parents wouldn’t hear him from the other room.

 _“Oh. Okay. Goodnight, David,”_ Patrick said, matching the volume of David’s voice.

“I miss you,” David heard himself say. Maybe he had had more wine than he thought.

_“I miss you, too. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, okay? I love you,” Patrick hummed._

“Okay. I love you too.

*

Alexis must have opened the blinds because David woke up to a _very_ bright room at around seven. He rubbed at his eyes for a second, looking around the room. Alexis was standing by the mirror, pulling her hair into a ponytail. She was dressed in her running gear, headphones plugged in. David swallowed thickly as he shifted his legs, feeling the same familiar, awful feeling. And Alexis was standing right there.

“Are you going for a run?” David asked Alexis, hopeful. She took out one of her headphones, looking towards him. He had his blankets pulled up as far as they could possibly go.

“What?” she yelled over her music.

“Are you going for a run?” David yelled back. He shifted, uncomfortably.

“Oh, no. I just got back,” she responded, taking out both headphones and sitting down at their table.

“Oh,” he said. He didn’t know what to do. He was definitely not admitting what he did to his younger sister, but he also really didn’t want to lay in a wet bed for much longer. He stared up at the ceiling, just hoping that whatever nightmare he was trapped in would be over soon.

“Are you just going to lay in bed all day?” Alexis asked after a few _very_ uncomfortable minutes had passed. David swallowed.

“I’m just still waking up,” he said, pretending to be looking at something interesting on his phone.

“You’re being boring. Get up,” she said, standing. David flushed very deep, praying to God that she wouldn’t try to get any closer. To his dismay, she did.

“Stop it, Alexis. I’m just tried,” he tried to protest, holding onto his duvet with white knuckles.

“I don’t care. I’m hungry and I don’t want to eat alone,” she said, now standing directly next to his bed.

“Patrick is picking me up. I can’t,” he argued, which was the truth.

“Okay. Then he can come, too,” she responded easily, hands on her hips. “Come on. Get up. Don’t make me _force_ you,” she said, looking _way_ too eager for David’s liking. He only held on tighter, panic rising in his chest.

“Please don’t, Alexis,” David finally said after a moment, desperately. That’s when Alexis’s expression changed. At first, her smile dropped, but after looking him once over, it came back, maybe even bigger.

“Oh my God. Ew, David. You _didn’t_ ,” she said, her voice low. There was this glint in her eyes that David absolutely hated. He shifted at that and physically winced at how horrible it felt to be lying in a literal _puddle_.

“What are you talking about?” he tried to lie. It didn’t work in the slightest, and Alexis decided to grab the edge of his duvet and try to pull it off, which made David automatically grab on tighter.

“Oh my God, you totally did!”

“Stop it, Alexis,” David yelled back, keeping his voice tight.

“You’re basically middle aged, David. This is one of the best things to ever happen to me,” she retorted, sitting at the edge of her own bed and just kind of gawking at him, grin plastered on her face.

“I drank a lot last night,” he tried to defend himself, continuing to grab onto the blankets. David decided he was just never going to leave. He was going to die in this motel bed.

“Sure, you did. The same way that Liam Payne _drank a lot_ when I slept in his bed that one night,” she said, winking at him and standing back up. David didn’t even know where to start with that sentence, so he just chose to ignore it.

“Where are you going?” he said, agitated, as Alexis crossed over to their parent’s door.

“To tell mom,” she said, putting a hand on the doorknob.

“Alexis!” he yelled through gritted teeth, pulling himself up slightly, ready to run into the bathroom.

“I’m kidding, David. She’s not here. Oh my God, your _face_ ,” she said, laughing and sitting back down at the table, pulling out her phone as if nothing just happened.

“I’m going to put ants in your shampoo,” David muttered, finally getting up and wrapping as many blankets as he could find around his entire body and shuffling awkwardly towards the bathroom.

“Don’t worry David. Secret’s safe with me.”

David spent the duration of his shower wondering what Patrick was doing. And thinking about how desperately he wanted to be with him, in his apartment, and not under the almost-frozen shower head of the Motel. When he got out of the shower, Alexis was gone, and David took care of the bedding as quickly as he possibly could. Stevie questioned him doing his laundry at 8 am, but he only shrugged and said he was out of sweaters, which was clearly a lie. Stevie didn’t press him further though, which he was very, very grateful for. It was way too early for David to already be completely done with the day.

*

Patrick came to pick him up an hour later, and David ducked inside the car anxiously, kissing him quickly.

“How was your family night?” Patrick asked immediately, starting to back out of the Motel. David just nodded.

“David, is something wrong?” Patrick asked, concern lining his voice.

“No. I’m fine. It was good. Yeah, good. But I, um,” David couldn’t believe what he was about to say. But it was _Patrick_. And he knew he had to.

“It happened again last night,” David said, surprising himself a little with how easily it came out. He was looking out the window, sunglasses on, trying to protect himself as much as he possibly could. “I’m sorry, I just felt like… I should tell you. You said you wanted me to be honest,” David rushed out after Patrick hadn’t said anything. There was another moment of silence before Patrick responded.

“Don’t apologize. Thank you, you’re right, I think you should tell me,” he said, his voice so gentle. And so _honest_. Patrick placed a hand on David’s thigh. And David felt like there was a 10-pound weight inside of each of his lungs. He couldn’t breathe again.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Patrick asked as soon as he noticed David’s breathing pick up. David just shook his head, afraid to open his mouth. David didn’t notice as Patrick pulled over to the side of the rode, grabbing one of David’s hands in his.

“Talk to me, baby,” Patrick spoke lowly, begging. David took a long, deep breath.

“I don’t know what’s going on with me! I don’t know if this is ever going to go away. And you didn’t sign up for this! You didn’t sign up for any of this, and you shouldn’t have to… you shouldn’t have to deal with me. I’m sorry,” David rambled in one breath, taking off his sunglasses and rubbing at his eyes. He wasn’t crying, but they were stinging. Everything was stinging. David heard Patrick drone out a sigh through his nose.

“You’re right. I didn’t sign up for this, not necessarily. But I signed up for _you_. All of you. And if this never goes away, which for the record I think it will, but if it doesn’t, I will never, ever, stop loving you. David, I want to marry you. I’ll always want to marry you. A few mattress stains aren’t going to change that, okay?” Patrick responded, so slow and sweet that David felt like he was tasting honey. David held onto his hands so tightly. And Patrick did the same. It wasn’t until David looked up, finally, into Patrick’s eyes, that he saw them filled with tears.

“Oh my God, I love you so much,” David sobbed, dryly. He kissed his fiancé then, clasping both hands onto either side of his face. Patrick laughed at that, kissing him back. A minute passed before they pulled apart, realizing that they, at some point, have a store to open.

“Is this a good time to tell you that I used the rest of your laundry detergent?” David asked as Patrick pulled back onto the road.

“Oh, now that’s definitely a deal breaker,” Patrick responded, grabbing onto David’s hand again.

David laughed, holding onto his fiancés hand as they drove. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's part 2! let me know if you want more, i have tons of ideas for this weird little book.


	3. No Harm No Foul

David had a problem with underestimating Patrick’s needs.

They hadn’t had sex in a few days, which didn’t really come as a huge shock to David. It was probably hard to find someone sexy when all they’d done for a week is pee in their fiancé’s sheets. Back when David first started spending his nights with Patrick, it was like they couldn’t get enough of each other. Even living with Ray, as soon as the door was closed, Patrick’s mouth was on his. All over him. And maybe it was just because they’re older, or maybe it’s the _other issue_ , but David didn’t feel like going out of his way to get Patrick into bed. And so, when Patrick made David dinner and they both ate (way too much) dessert before crawling into bed together, David just sort of expected them to fall asleep in each other’s arms like they’d been doing for a week (with the fun new addition of doing laundry in the morning). 

So, when David felt Patrick’s lips against his neck, he was very pleasantly surprised. His breath was hot enough to make David squirm. They were pressed against each other, sharing body heat and just kissing lazily for a while. Eventually, Patrick started to take off David’s shirt, his hand gentle under his t-shirt, lifting it over his head like he’d done a hundred times before.

“Is this okay?” Patrick suddenly asked, throwing David off completely. Patrick was sitting on top of him, still fully clothed. David didn’t really know how to respond. Why would any of this _not be okay?_ So, he just nodded quickly, pushing whatever that was into the back of his mind and letting Patrick make quick work of removing both of their pajama bottoms.

Okay, yeah, David missed _this_. He missed how careful Patrick was. He missed how it felt to have Patrick’s hands wrapped around him. He missed the feeling of Patrick inside of him, rocking slowly, taking his sweet time.

And David tried to ignore it. He really did. He tried to drown it out by focusing on the way Patrick was moaning, or the sound of their skin touching. He tried to focus on how _good_ he felt. But with each trust towards the headboard, there was a very clear and distinct _crinkling_ from below them. And once they were both spent, David lying across Patrick’s chest, sweating, he started to laugh. He just completely _lost it_ , throwing himself into a fit of laughter.

“What? What is it?” Patrick asked, laughing lightly himself just from watching David.

“The crinkling,” David said in between fits of laughter. He pointed towards the sheets as emphasis.

“Oh,” Patrick responded, not understanding the amusement. David continued to plummet into another cycle of giggles.

“It’s just so funny. Like, having sex on top of a mattress protector. I don’t know why,” David said. As soon as he finished talking, Patrick started to laugh along with him, until eventually both of them had to sit up, afraid they would choke if they continued to lay down on their backs.

“Why is this funny?” Patrick asked after a minute of nothing but the two of them laughing.

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” David croaked out, finally letting the laughter die down. “Like, it shouldn’t be, right? It should be sad, and embarrassing,” he said, burying his face in his hands. Patrick stopped laughing, too.

“It’s not. Either of those things,” he said, adorning his _business man_ voice, which was equally funny considering they were both completely naked and talking about a rubber sheet. “I don’t like it when you put yourself down like that, David. It’s just life. Shit happens,” Patrick finished. David was still rubbing his face with his hands, suddenly feeling very exposed with the new serious tonal shift.

“I liked it better when we were laughing,” he said, letting himself fall back into the sheets. Patrick brought a hand up to David’s hair, stroking it gently.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It is kind of funny. Just the way it sounds,” Patrick admitted. David hummed under his touch, suddenly feeling _very_ tired. They stayed like that in silence for a few minutes, David basically purring under David’s touch. David opened his eyes suddenly, remembering what Patrick had asked him earlier.

“Why did you ask me if it was okay? Before we started?” he asked, looking up towards Patrick, who was sitting up slightly. The hand in David’s hair paused for a second.

“I just wanted you to feel comfortable,” Patrick responded, shrugging.

“I know, but it’s not like we did anything crazy tonight,” David responded, a little less soft than his fiancé. They were about to be married. Patrick knew what worked for them, what David liked. David sat up, so they were on the same level.

“Right, but I just… I wasn’t sure if you were in the mood, with everything that’s going on,” Patrick said, very gently. He was stroking David’s arm now. _Everything that’s going on_ sounded like David was being laid off at work, or his family was disowning him.

“I think it’s pronounced ‘my fiancé is peeing the bed,’ actually,” David snarked back, feeling his cheeks flush at his own words. Patrick sort of glared at him, like he was trying to protect David from David’s own words. “Of course, I’m comfortable, Patrick. I sort of assumed that you were the one who wasn’t?” David questioned. The look on Patrick’s face made him immediately regret saying anything.

“What?” Patrick started, “why wouldn’t I be?” David inhaled sharply, not really wanting to address the obvious. But Patrick looked so _hurt_ , and David was feeling very bad about bringing any of it up.

“I just… since, you know, _this_ all started, we haven’t really been… intimate. Like at all,” David said. “I sort of just thought it was because _this_ is all obviously pretty gross,” He finished, very matter-of-factly. There was no hurt behind his voice. It just made sense to David that Patrick wasn’t going to be attracted to him until _this_ stopped. David certainty didn’t feel sexy, and he couldn’t imagine being perceived that way by someone else in the state he was in. Patrick took David completely by surprise by tackling him until he was sitting on top of him, lips smashed together, and arms wrapped around David’s torso. It was a short kiss that left David wanting more, _somehow_. He really was deprived.

“David, I am always going to find you sexy. It’s really hard, probably impossible, for me to never _not_ want you,” Patrick said, kissing up David’s neck just to prove his point further. David was surprised to find himself already getting semi-hard again.

“Okay, okay, I get it. You’re horny,” David said as Patrick started to nibble on his ear. “Come here,” he ordered, wrapping Patrick up in his arms, as close as they could possibly get.

“I’m sorry, I guess trying to give you space backfired,” Patrick said after another moment of them just holding each other.

“It’s okay. We can always make up for lost time,” David murmured into Patrick’s hair. He smelled like sweet citrus. It was an incredible smell.

“Mm. Yes. Yes, we can,” Patrick responded, his eyes closed, feeling himself become lost to sleep. David hummed back, breathing in and out with Patrick, in unison, until they both eventually fell asleep, leaving their beside lamp on.

*

Patrick woke up the next morning naked and damp, and for a split second he thought it might just be the sweat from the night before. After waking up fully, he noted that it was definitely _not_ just the sweat. David was facing him in the same position they fell asleep together, still sleeping soundly. Despite it all, Patrick took a moment to take in how beautiful David was, even with messy hair and drool peeking out the corner of his mouth.

Patrick really didn’t want to wake him, but because of their close proximity and the lack of clothes between them, he knew that he was in desperate need of a shower as much as David was and considering how uncomfortable he was, he was certain David felt even worse. 

“David,” he said, sitting up. He started to pull the sheets off the bed already. “David, wake up,” he tried again. This time, David’s eyes opened with a start, and he took a second to look around, confused.

“What’s going—God, fuck,” David cursed, scrambling to get out of the bed and looking all around him. He stood by the bed, grabbing his pajama pants from the floor and pulling them on quickly.

“I’m so sorry,” David said, rubbing his eyes and helping to pull the sheets and comforter into a pile in the center of the bed, which is what Patrick had been doing.

“Don’t start, David,” Patrick said, smiling tightly like he always did. Patrick was still naked, and David felt really awful to say least. “Why don’t you go get in the shower?” Patrick suggested, noticing how David’s hands were shaking as he tried to help with the bedding. David nodded, but didn’t walk towards the bathroom. He was looking at Patrick.

“Oh my God. It got on you—”

“It’s fine, David.”

“It is _so_ not fine, Patrick.”

“I’ll just take a shower after you. No big deal,” Patrick assured, shrugging like it really wasn’t. Like he’s been _peed on_ a hundred times before. There was a pause before David spoke again.

“Just share mine?” David sort of asked after a second of consideration. “It’ll save water,” he said, shrugging. Patrick smiled at that, grabbing the bedding and putting it in the hamper he now kept close by.

“You go start the water. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Patrick said, nodding towards the bathroom. Patrick nodded along, finally leaving for the bathroom and turning on the hot water as high as it would possibly go.

Patrick, true to his words, joined David in the shower in a couple of minutes, giving David enough time to completely scrub his body raw. Once he stepped inside, Patrick pressed kisses to David’s back. They didn’t speak as they cleaned themselves, and David didn’t resist when Patrick wrapped his arms around David’s waist and they both just stood under the water for a few minutes.

Patrick had already taken care of the mattress and was planning to take the sheets to the laundry as soon as they finished their shower, but David insisted he did it. Patrick didn’t want to start an argument that early in the morning, so he let David take the bedding and he instead searched his kitchen for something to eat. He found a few toaster waffles in the back of his freezer and figured _why not._ It was one of those mornings. He popped them in and got to work on remaking the bed with new sheets, making it look good as new. David returned in a few minutes with the empty hamper and a very forced smile. Patrick was buttoning up his shirt.

“Smells good in here,” he noted, setting down the hamper and looking around the kitchen.

“If you like freezer burn, then sure,” Patrick said, finishing his buttons and taking down two plates from the cupboard. “How did the laundry go?” he asked, grabbing the butter and syrup.

“Wonderfully, thank you,” David answered sarcastically.

They ate the waffles quickly, both of them trying to get to the store on time. They fell into their normal conversations, like this was just how their mornings went now. Patrick didn’t mention how this was happening more times than not. David didn’t mention how he felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack at all times. They just ate, knees pressed together under the table, until it was time to open the store.

*

Stevie invited them to drinks at her place that night, which they both accepted graciously. Drinks with Stevie usually meant they brought a bottle of wine and Stevie poured them a few glasses of cheap whiskey, but it was the kind of distraction that they all needed. Stevie was stressed about franchising the Motel, David was stressed about his body literally breaking down, and Patrick was stressed because David was stressed. So, after scarfing down some takeout and all of them making a pretty solid dent in their drinks of choice, David had started to forget about everything that was absolutely wrong in his life.

They left with warm stomachs and dizzy heads. Patrick drove because he didn’t accept any of the whiskey and had only had a glass or two of wine, and because David was falling asleep standing up as they walked back to the car, arms intertwined. When they got into the car, David was asleep within minutes, listening to the steady hum of the engine and Patrick singing under his breath to the CD that’s been stuck in his car for years. They had no food in the apartment, so Patrick stopped at the store just to pick up a few essential items. He was also completely out of laundry detergent. He thought about waking up David first, but he knew he’d only be a few minutes, and the last thing Patrick wanted to do was disturb his sleep any _more_ than it was already being disturbed. 

He was in and out of the store in fifteen minutes, and when he got back into the car, David was still fast asleep, head facing towards the window, snoring softly.

David woke up a few minutes later to the sound of the turn signal _ticking_ against the otherwise silence of the night, and it took him a minute to adjust to where he was.

“What time is it?” he slurred, checking his pockets for his phone.

“Almost midnight. I stopped at the store for some things,” Patrick clarified, realizing that they left Stevie’s at a little past eleven and the time difference would probably be confusing. “I thought I’d let you sleep.”

“Oh my God, why?” David asked, now fully awake, and looking very frantic.

“Because you were tired?” Patrick clarified, knowing exactly where this conversation was going but also not wanting to lose his nonchalant approach to the whole ordeal. 

“Yeah, but what if _it_ happened. In your car?” David said, looking forward and shifting in his seat, trying and failing to not become very overdramatic very quickly.

“Did it?”

“No!” David nearly yelped, as if to say _obviously not._

“Okay! Then no harm no foul, right?” Patrick assured, putting a hand on David’s knee as he pulled into the apartment’s driveway.

“But it could’ve happened, Patrick. And I don’t know how to clean car seats,” David said, still trying to wake up.

“If it did happen, we’d figure it out,” Patrick said, turning off the car and grabbing the grocery bags from the back seat. David rubbed a hand across his face before stepping out, deciding that he was still too tired to try and argue with Patrick. Especially because he was just being nice. He was always being nice.

*

When Patrick woke up, it was to the smell of coffee. The apartment was bright and warm, and Patrick buried himself further into the sheets. David was standing in the kitchen, wearing the same pajamas from the night before. He smiled at Patrick as he finally started to get out of bed. Walking into the kitchen, he held Patrick’s waist as David sipped his coffee and kissed him sweetly.

Neither of them mentioned the elephant in the room, and Patrick decided to just appreciate the smell of coffee, dry sheets, and a happy David.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i honestly have nothing better to do than write this, so here you go! thanks for all the sweet comments! they mean the world to me :)


	4. Please Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David finally see's a doctor. He also finally hits his breaking point.

After a week of trying to get in, David finally got an appointment with a specialist in Elmdale.

He had basically begged Patrick to call for him because as soon as he got ahold of the scheduling nurse, his throat closed up and he started rambling about a rash he didn’t have. Patrick was much better at that sort of thing anyways, and he knew how to use all these professional, serious terms as he pretended to be David.

They went to the appointment on a Tuesday night after the store had closed ( _they,_ because as soon as Patrick mentioned David _maybe_ going alone, David looked like he was going to throw up). David had been embarrassed before. God knows he had been. But Patrick saw a whole new side of him as they sat in the waiting room, silently sitting in parallel blue plastic chairs as both of them pretended to be reading something on their phones. David’s knee was shaking. Hell, his entire body was shaking. After ten minutes of waiting in silence, David shaking the entire time, Patrick finally put a hand on his knee, as an attempt to calm him down.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” Patrick asked as soon as David finally gave up trying to entertain himself and put his phone away, groaning. He shook his head.

“No. Well, I don’t know. Maybe,” he said, quietly. The waiting room was basically empty, but he still felt like he had to keep his voice down, afraid that someone would over hear them. Even if they were talking about literally nothing.

“Okay. I’ll be here, if you need me.”

Turns out David really did need Patrick as he sat on the examination bed, ankles crossed, feeling like an exposed wire. He was shaking again as he sat in there, alone, waiting for the doctor. The nurse had already done all of the basic tests on him and he was becoming very impatient. He was about to text Patrick, to ask if maybe he could come in just for a little bit, when the doctor finally came in.

After doing the normal pleasantries of small talk and awkwardly shuffling around topics, the doctor got straight to the point.

“So, you’ve been wetting the bed?” she asked bluntly, looking at her tablet screen, just confirming. David was as red as the scrubs she was wearing under her white coat. David guessed that they were about the same age, and David decided in that moment that he’d never felt worse about his life choices and where he was.

“Yeah… yes,” he said, hands folded in his lap, head down.

“When did this start?”

“Like… 2 weeks ago? On and off, obviously,” he said, trying to have the same tone of voice Patrick put on anytime they talked about _this_.

“How often?” she asked, sitting on her little stool and typing into the tablet whatever David said. David couldn’t believe that there was going to be a medical record out there in the world with this information. Not that he was really planning on it before, but now he definitely could never become famous.

“Just like, five times, maybe?” he said, not sure if it was higher or lower. He really didn’t want to know the answer to that, so he just stuck with _five_. It was probably higher. Okay, it was definitely higher.

“Good. Well, first of all, David, this is something that’s a lot more common than you probably think. I personally treat a good handful of patients exactly like you a year,” she said, her smile very genuine. She seemed like she had very good intentions, but David did _not_ want to be included into this handful of sad adult bed-wetter’s.

“Okay, well, that’s great, but I’m really just here so that I can figure out what’s wrong with my body so that it will stop,” he rushed, practically sweating from how hot his face felt. His nonchalant, Patrick-inspired demeanor was faulting rapidly. He really didn’t want to come off as rude to this genuinely very sweet doctor, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was being belittled at least a little bit. That’s why he needed Patrick. He wasn’t the nice one.

“That’s what I’m here for. We’ll run a few tests, and then go from there.”

A few tests included urine and blood samples as well as some weird massaging of his kidneys and pancreas. After the tests were done and she had left, David texted Patrick.

_I need you._

He was there in a matter of minutes, standing by his side, rubbing circles into his back as David tried very hard to control his breathing. Once the doctor returned, and Patrick was introduced, she sat back down and put her tablet away.

“So. It’ll be a few days for the blood, but the urine looks good, and you don’t seem to be having any problems with your pancreas. I’m not going to rule out diabetes until we get the blood work back, and so I’m not going to prescribe you with any medications that might mess with your kidneys until then. So, in terms of the cause, my best bet is stress,” she said, legs crossed, face neutral as ever.

“Stress?” David clarified.

“You said that you’re planning a wedding, right? And you run a business that causes you a lot of stress?” David nodded to both of those, feeling his chest tighten. Patrick continued to rub circles into his back, slowly.

“Yes,” he responded verbally.

“Have you ever thought of seeing a therapist?” she offered, folding her arms over her knees. David felt like an animal in a cage.

“No. I don’t know. Would that help?”

“It might,” she said, “in my personal opinion, I think it would. I can recommend a few in the area, if you’d like?” she asked, already pulling up a pad of sticky notes and pen. David nodded, not trusting himself to say anything that would help.

“When will the blood work be in?” Patrick asked as she scribbled a few names down.

“We’ll have it in a few days. I’ll give you a call, David. In the meantime, here’s a list of things you both can do to help navigate this situation. You should also probably avoid caffeine and alcohol for now. Most of this is preventive, but it should help for now,” she said, handing David a folder, slipping in the sticky note of therapist recommendations inside as well. The caffeine and alcohol comment is what stung David the most.

“I think this is just your body reacting to the stress and anxiety of the wedding. I suggest setting up a few appointments with a therapist, and if it doesn’t go away in a few months, coming back in so we can run a few more tests,” she said with a smile.

David immediately handed the folder to Patrick, not wanting to see inside of it or even think about it until they were safe in Patrick’s apartment, far away from all of _this_. After shaking hands and leaving the hospital in a hurry that they didn’t need to be in, David finally let himself exhale. They didn’t talk about it in the car. Patrick put the folder in the backseat as they drove. They stopped to get food on the way home, because even though David didn’t ask for it, Patrick knew it would lift his spirits.

Food did wonders on David, and by the time they were home, folder clutched discretely under Patrick’s arm, David was back to himself. When they got inside the apartment, Patrick sat on the couch, waiting for David to finish to finish his story about Dianne Wiest so that he could open the folder without him throwing a fit.

“That doctor seemed nice,” Patrick said casually when David finally sat.

“She was too cheery,” he responded, taking a throw pillow and hugging it to his chest, legs crossed on top of the cushions.

“You think everyone is too cheery,” Patrick responded, finally opening the folder. David held his breath. He waited for Patrick to read it over first before he said anything.

“Okay, well…” Patrick started after flipping the page over and reading it all the way through. “We could try setting an alarm? To wake you up? That’s one of the options,” Patrick said, still looking at the sheet and definitely not looking at David, who he knew was not in the mood for eye contact.

“Okay. What else does it say?”

“Well. It says that you could always, um… wear something—” Patrick started before David cut him off.

“If you finish that sentence, I’m never speaking to you again,” David threatened, ready to literally _leave._ Because _no_. _Not in a million years would he ever._

“David, it’s not a terrible idea—”

“Yes, that absolutely is a terrible idea. Because I’m not a… I’m not… I’m not doing this,” he gave up, standing and putting his hands in the air, wishing he had some sort of white flag. Because his was definitely all he could handle for one day. Hell, it was way more than he could handle for one _month_.

“I’m not pushing anything on you, David. I just want us to be comfortable,” Patrick responded, still sitting. He sounded like David’s doctor, voice steady and careful.

David didn’t realize just what Patrick had said until a second after. Oh. _Us_.

David had been trying to unscramble his own head and not lose his shit in front of his fiancé so much that he hadn’t been thinking of Patrick. He was just trying to stay in control of his body while his life was spiraling out of control because all he had at this point _was_ his body, now that even his brain wasn’t trustworthy. He had forgotten that this was affecting more than just him. David put his arms down by his side, staring down at his shoes.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said after a long moment, looking up at Patrick, eyes glassy and hands shaking as he clasped them together. Patrick stood, dropping the folder and rushing over to David. He put his arms around him, letting David’s head fall onto his shoulder as he rubbed his back. David wasn’t crying, but he was breathing very heavily, panic rising through his chest and into his throat, shaking his hands and shoulders. He suddenly felt very weak and dizzy, which Patrick picked up on, helping to hold him up.

“Let’s sit, okay?” Patrick offered, holding onto David as they sat back down. David pulled his knees up to his chest, wringing his hands together, his breathing hitching. He was trying to say something, but his voice kept catching in his throat, and his breathing only got worse, until he was fully hyperventilating. David kept his eyes closed as Patrick held him, just waiting for it to be over. A few minutes passed until David was eventually breathing mostly normally, just staring at the ground, a few tears on his cheeks that he didn’t bother to wipe away. Patrick brought him a glass of water and after David took a few sips, he pulled David down onto his chest, both of them laying down on the couch. Patrick pulled up _Pretty Women_ without saying a word, playing with David’s hair until they both eventually fell asleep on the couch to the TV and each-other’s warmth.

*

The next night, they tried the alarm with success. The night after that, they were less successful, and Patrick had to basically force David to not go and stay at the Motel for the rest of the week.

“I just don’t understand. I’m fine there, Patrick, and I’m tired of waking you up,” David argued, helping put on the fitted sheet onto the mattress with Patrick.

“I sleep better with you here,” Patrick replied, focusing on the bedding. It was two in the morning. David was fresh out of the shower, hair wet and unbrushed.

“Okay, well that’s obviously a lie,” David replied, dropping the sheet to cross his arms.

“No, it’s not,” Patrick said.

“It obviously is. It’s the middle of the night. If I wasn’t here to pee on you, you’d still be asleep.”

“No, if you weren’t here, I’d be lying awake, wishing you were here,” Patrick replied, a little crass. He dropped the sheets too, staring David down instead. “I can’t sleep without you here, David. I just lay awake. I need you here. Please, stay,” Patrick said. Maybe it was just because Patrick was tried, and David was on edge, but Patrick felt like crying. Because it was true. David was like his nightlight, and whenever David was at the Motel, all he did was countdown the hours until the next time he saw him.

“Fine,” David replied, going back to making the bed.

As they crawled in bed together, for the second time that night, David cuddled up behind Patrick, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s torso like a blanket. “I’ll stay,” he whispered into his hair, kissing his neck. Patrick let out a very deep sigh, feeling safe again.

*

David got a call the next morning telling him that his blood was clean, and he didn’t have any underlying health conditions. He set up his first therapy appointment the same morning, with Patrick right there by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a little bit heavy. but these boys have got to figure it out somehow! sorry, david.


	5. Just a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David keeps having a nightmare. Patrick loves him very, very much.

It wasn’t a shock to either of them when David’s therapist recommended David see a physiatrist to be treated for Anxiety. It wasn’t a shock to either of them when David kind of freaked out. But he was given medication that was supposed to reduce his stress (therefor maybe reducing the other issue) and so David decided to give it a try. But it didn’t help everything.

David was having a nightmare, the thought, because it was their wedding night, even though their wedding was still months away. They were also in his parent’s old house, so it was definitely not real, and he was pretty sure Mariah Carey didn’t RSVP in real life. And there was this pit in his stomach as he walked down the aisle, so he knew that something had to be wrong. But Patrick was on the other side. And God, he looked great. But the closer he got, the farther and farther away Patrick became.

And then suddenly it was that night. Their wedding night. Both of them were so in love, and David felt so, so happy, bodies entangled. They were just lying in bed together, Patrick’s head on David’s chest. _And then suddenly everything was wet. And Patrick was so, so angry._

David shook himself awake, basically gasping for air. He wasn’t fully convinced that he was actually awake, searching the darkness for something to let him know that this was real. Patrick was next to him, shifting awake as soon as he heard David struggling to breathe. He rolled over to the nightstand to flip the lamp on.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’ll take care of it,” Patrick slurred, starting to get up. He was clearly still half-asleep.

David was scared. But for absolutely no reason. The bed was _dry_. It was just a dream. A stupid, very, _very_ plausible dream. And so, he didn’t move. Because he was scared that if he did, he would be thrown right back into the dream.

“Nothing happened, go back to sleep,” David finally whispered after a few seconds of Patrick awkwardly shuffling around in the bed, trying to figure out what was going on. David held his breath, just wanting Patrick to lay back down and wrap his arms around him.

“Oh, sorry. Bad dream?”

“Mhm,” David hummed, choking back the tightness in his voice. His eyes were wide open still, staring up at the dark ceiling. Patrick curled up next to David, resting a hand across his chest.

“Wanna talk?” Patrick murmured into David’s shirt, clearly on the verge of unconsciousness.

“No,” he responded. Patrick was barely awake to hear it. After turning the light back off, Patrick was passed out. David didn’t follow suit, however. After lying awake for another thirty minutes just listening to Patrick sleeping on his side, he decided to get up. A part of him wanted to just leave. Go back to the Motel, crawl into his bed. Wake up Alexis just because he could. Go to the café with his mom in the morning and just ignore Patrick until this twisted dream version of him was gone.

He made himself a cup of uncaffeinated tea just to calm himself down, reminding David that not having caffeine was making him go crazy. It was almost 2 am, and David knew it was stupid to not go back to sleep. But he just couldn’t. Not if he was going to go back to that dream. So, he sat on the couch, drinking his tea in the darkness and waiting for the sun to rise.

David was jarred back into reality when Patrick’s alarm went off at 2:30 (like it did every night). Patrick had insisted that he set the alarm on his phone because David was a deeper sleeper. And Patrick just wanted to help as best as he could. David tried to act quickly and rush over to turn it off before Patrick woke up, but he was a second too late.

“David?” Patrick said, reaching for his phone and turning the lamp back on. “Why aren’t you in bed?” he asked, starting to sit up.

“Couldn’t sleep. It’s fine,” he said, going to turn the lamp back off.

“Something wrong? I can stay up,” Patrick said through a yawn, rubbing an eye. His hand reached out for David, trying to pull him back into bed. David stayed standing.

“No, go back to sleep, I’m just not tired,” he lied, easily. Patrick couldn’t really fight him on that. He looked exhausted. So, Patrick hummed softly before plopping back onto the bed.

David had now woken him up twice in one night. For literally nothing. He waited another fifteen minutes before slipping on some real clothes, grabbing his bag, and leaving. He didn’t really know where he was going, but the nighttime air was breezy and chilled just enough his wake him up fully. He found himself walking to the store, hands in his pockets, realizing that if anyone saw him, he’d look insane. Or like he was trying to rob his own store. Or look like he was cheating on Patrick. Which at this point, would be a better rumor than the truth.

He waited five hours until the sun had already risen, and the town started to wake up, to text Patrick. He was very, very tired.

_‘Went to the store early. Love you.’_

It was almost 8 am, an hour before they usually opened. He wasted the rest of the time by starting on inventory and cleaning surfaces that really didn’t need to be cleaned. He got a text halfway through that hour from Patrick saying he’d be in soon. As he was scrubbing down the checkout counter for the second time (he was so tired that he had completely forgotten he wiped it down already), there was a knock on the locked door.

He was about to respond with a sharp _we’re closed_ before looking up to see his sister, wearing a summer dress and big hat. David sighed and crossed over to the door, still wearing his cleaning cloves and holding a spray bottle. He opened the door, but only halfway.

“Hello?” he said, annoyance gracing his voice. It was too early, and he was so, _so_ tired.

“Hi, David. You look terrible,” she said with a smile, forcing her way inside the store. She was holding a carry out bag from the café.

“What are you doing?” David asked as she made her way through the store, taking her hat off and sitting up onto the counter.

“Good morning to you too, David. I’m coming to give my brother some breakfast,” she responded, tauntingly towards David. She shoved the bag towards his chest.

“Okay. Well, I know that you didn’t do this. Did Patrick send you?” he asked, peeking inside to see a breakfast burrito wrapped up in foil. Patrick definitely sent her.

“What? No? Oh my God, am I not allowed to say hi to my brother?” she defended, wrists limp in front of her chest. Her eyes were so squinted they looked like they could pop. David didn’t believe her for a second.

“Okay, so, I know that’s not why you’re here, but I am going to eat this,” he said, taking off the gloves to unwrap the burrito and taking a bite. “Did Patrick, like, pay you?” he asked around a mouthful. Alexis just stared at him for a moment before finally giving in with a groan.

“No, David, he didn’t _pay_ me. I was in the area,” she said, crossing her ankles. David only rolled his eyes in response, going back to eating. “He’s worried, David. He said you just like, left, in the middle of the night,” she finished, very earnestly. David kind of really hated where this conversation was heading. Damn Patrick for sending him his sister and _food_. He knew how to make David crack.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said, not making eye contact. He gulped around his food, his stomach twisting just enough for him to try and remember the steps for calming himself down that his therapist had given him. He was having a lot of trouble remembering them.

“Let’s just _pretend_ for a moment that I don’t know why you couldn’t sleep,” Alexis started, to which David immediately went red, “It’s Patrick, David. He loves you. Is he… not being understanding?” she asked. David felt a little bit of pride that Alexis seemed so genuinely concerned, but that feeling was overpowered by how embarrassing this discussion was. Especially at 8 in the morning. David was way too tired to have his sister asking him if his fiancé was accepting of his bed-wetting. _Way_ too tired.

“We’re not going to talk about this, Alexis,” he responded very quickly, wanting to shut her up and get her out of his store as quickly as possible.

“Fine, David. I’ll just sit here then,” she said through her teeth. David set his food down.

“It was just a dream, okay. I had a bad dream and I needed to leave. Patrick is great. He’s like _too_ great,” David finally said after Alexis’s staring was becoming creepy. She smiled in response.

“Okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he quipped back, face tight.

“Well I’m not admitting to Patrick asking me to come here, but I will say that he’s worried, David. If you don’t talk to me, you should talk to him,” she said, finally hoping off the counter and getting ready to leave.

Even after their pep talk, when Patrick arrived at the store perfectly on time, that’s not what David did.

“You look really bad, David,” Patrick said, flipping over the ‘closed’ sign and making his way into the store.

“Oh my God, love you too,” David said, setting down the cleaning spray bottle that had been glued to his hand for an hour. Patrick smiled. David’s eyes were puffy with the lack of sleep, and his hair was tucked under a beanie because he did not have the energy to fix it. Patrick kissed his cheek as he passed him.

“I missed you last night,” Patrick said. David sighed.

“I just couldn’t sleep, okay?” he responded sharply. There was a little bit of hurt in his voice.

“But you need to, David. I’m not going to let you not sleep,” Patrick said as he messed with something in the cash register.

“Really nice move with you sending Alexis,” David said after a moment, ignoring what Patrick had said.

“Did you like the food?” Patrick asked with a smile, ignoring the way David looked like he could scream.

“You know that I did, and thank you, but also why did you send her?” David sounded really hurt now, and Patrick realized that maybe sending Alexis wasn’t the best move. David was looking at Patrick, waiting for a response this time instead of looking away like he usually did when their conversations got anywhere near _this_ topic.

“I’m sorry, David. I didn’t tell her anything. I was just worried about you leaving in the middle of the night. I mean, I didn’t know where you were going, or if you were hurt or something,” he responded, dropping the attitude he had and keeping his voice steady.

“She knows,” David responded.

“Oh,” Patrick said, his own face feeling hot.

“Not everything, but she was there that night at the Motel. And she’s not stupid,” David responded, avoiding eye contact again as he sorted through the face creams, turning them so the labels faced out.

“I didn’t realize,” Patrick responded.

“I know,” David said. There was a moment of silence where neither of them said anything, and then a customer walked in, and Patrick and David decided to leave off until later. They spent the rest of the agonizingly long work day avoiding the topic as David just tried to stay awake.

*

David woke up the next night to the same dream.

_Patrick and David were lying in bed again, half-dressed in their wedding suits, in some beautifully decorated bedroom. Roses were scattered around them with bottles of champagne and wedding gifts. And then suddenly both of them were soaking wet. And Patrick was yelling._

David woke up with a start.

He had been so tired all day that David had passed out way before Patrick had, so when he woke up, the lamp was still on, and Patrick was quietly reading beside him. Patrick wasn’t under the covers, so David knew that it was still pretty early. Which made the damp coldness between his legs so much worse.

“Hey, sorry, did I wake you up?” Patrick asked when he noticed David shifting, eyes opened. David checked his phone. It was only 11:23 pm. _He had only been asleep for 3 hours._

And oh my God, David wanted to cry. For a second, he hoped, so badly, that this was still a part of this dream. That he’d open his eyes and be in the Motel, far away from Patrick. But David knew that this had to be real, because this was now normal for him. This made sense. And he wanted to just _die_.

“I’m sorry,” David responded, quietly. He hadn’t moved yet, eyes staring straight ahead.

“Don’t apologize, you needed the nap. Go back to sleep, I’ll join you in a second,” Patrick said, already flipping the book closed and going to turn off the lamp.

“No, no, stop,” David said, finally sitting up. Part of him was preparing for Patrick to start yelling even though he _knew_ that wasn’t coming.

“It’s fine, David, I was done with the chapter anyways—”

“I need to shower, Patrick,” he said, cutting him off.

“Oh,” Patrick said after a second, realizing what David meant. “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t realize.” Patrick’s voice broke David. Somehow him always reacting so gently and _so sweet_ was way worse than him yelling about a wet bed on their wedding night.

They took care of everything before midnight, having gotten really good at the cleanup process. Patrick had crawled back into bed, ready to actually get some sleep, but David sat on the couch, hair still wrapped in a towel.

“David, I’m not letting you stay up all night again,” Patrick said after another 10 minutes of Patrick waiting for David to join him. David really didn’t like how much Patrick had sounded like his mom.

“I’m not tired now,” he argued back, scrolling through his phone. Patrick sighed, swinging his legs back over the side of the bed and walking over to David. He plopped down next to him on the couch. When David didn’t react, he took David’s phone, setting it down on the coffee table.

“What?” David said, hands up, annoyance gracing his face. Really, David not no right to be annoyed at Patrick right now. But he was. Because a part of him thought that maybe dream Patrick was right.

“What’s going on with you?” Patrick asked, matching David’s tone.

“Nothing,” he responded, going to reach for his phone, needing some sort of comfort to divide him from this discussion. Patrick just grabbed David’s hands, pulling them towards his lap. David rolled his eyes.

“Okay, not nothing. You’re obviously upset. Did I do something?” Patrick asked, genuinely concerned. David didn’t normally act like this after an accident. Patrick thought they had gotten over this barrier. He had really hoped they had at least.

“No. You didn’t.” There was a pause. “ _You_ didn’t,” David said, not really meaning to reveal anything. Because _this_ was stupid. He felt so stupid to feel upset about a version of Patrick that didn’t exist.

“What does that mean? Who did? Was it Alexis? I shouldn’t have asked her to talk to you, David, I’m sorry. I just thought that maybe you’d open up to her because you weren’t talking to me and—”

“I had a nightmare. About our wedding night. It’s the second time I’ve had this nightmare,” David cut him off, looking at their hands that were still interlocked in Patrick’s lap.

“Oh, David. What was the dream?”

“It’s stupid. It’s like, really, really stupid,” David responded, cheeks flushed. David stroked a thumb over David’s fingers, gently.

“Nothing that upsets you is stupid,” Patrick responded. It sounded like something straight out of a relationship book and David took a second just to appreciate how insane it was that he had found someone like Patrick. David bit him lip.

“I just… in the dream it’s our wedding night… and _it_ happens, and then you get upset with me. That’s the whole dream. I’m sorry, I know it’s dumb,” David says quickly, clearing his throat. Patrick’s face was stone cold, almost angry. Because how could he _ever_? He took a moment to decide what to say next.

“David, I don’t know if this is what you want to hear right now or even if you’ve realized, but tonight is the first time _it_ has happened this week. It’s getting better. Or at least, we’re getting better at making it stop. And the wedding is still really far away from now. In a few months, we’re going to be way too busy, and way too _happy_ to even remember this,” Patrick said, pushing his own fear and anxiety about dream Patrick to the back of his mind for a moment. He was watching David’s face closely. David nodded, very slowly, but he didn’t say anything.

“And you know that if it did happen on our wedding night, I wouldn’t give a shit, David. Because you’d be my husband. My _husband,_ David. And I will definitely never, ever get upset with you, I hope you know that,” Patrick said. David wanted to cry hearing Patrick say _husband_ like that. He’d never heard Patrick be so sincere saying any single word before. But _husband_. Wow.

“I do know that, Patrick. You’re better than any dream version of you I could possibly create,” David said, leaning onto Patrick, finally accepting the fact that he was still very tired.

“Good. Then can we sleep?” Patrick asked, to which David nodded against his chest.

*

David needed a little more convincing, however, that Patrick really wasn’t upset with him. So, after some heaving petting turned into some heavy _everything_ , both of them laid together, skin to skin, and fell asleep. And David had some very, very happy dreams that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know how much is left of this. i had to take a break after the finale to process... everything. i miss them so much already.


	6. Swooping In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie stays the night. Everything's okay.

David was terrified of letting himself be seen. That had been obvious to Patrick right off the bat. It was obvious to most people. Patrick didn’t like when David closed himself off, and Patrick liked to be in control of things. So, when David felt vulnerable, like he often did, Patrick was always ready to swoop in and tell him that _it was okay to be seen._ Patrick had been swooping in to save David a lot lately.

David was in the back room of the store, listening to a podcast like he often did to clear his head as Patrick manned the floor. The podcasts and the mental breaks were something his therapists had suggested to control the _stress_. The store was empty when the bell rung, and Patrick looked up to see Stevie.

“I need a favor,” she demanded, walking up to Patrick, face straight.

“Hi, Stevie. Nice to see you too,” Patrick quipped, smiling and pretending like he wasn’t pleased with Stevie being a welcomed distraction from the silence of the room.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?” she asked, skipping the pleasantries. 

And yeah, Patrick liked protecting David from all the things in life that made him feel valuable. Patrick also liked Stevie. And Patrick knew that Stevie staying over at Patrick’s apartment (basically Patrick and David’s apartment) would make him feel vulnerable. Still, he continued on.

“Can I ask why?” Patrick said.

“There’s a gas leak in my apartment,” she responded. Just then, David must’ve noticed Stevie’s presence, and took out his earbuds, waltzing curiously over to the counter.

“I’d stay at the Motel, but we’re surprisingly booked. There’s some convention in Elmdale,” Stevie finished, waving a hand nonchalantly. David quirked his head.

“Sure, Stevie, you’re welcome to stay,” Patrick responded with a smile. Because Patrick really liked her, and he also liked being nice. Stevie smiled.

“Hi, sorry, what’s going on?” David asked, setting his phone down on the counter.

“Stevie is staying at my place tonight,” Patrick said, watching David’s face for his reaction.

Patrick really did like making David feel safe. He also knew that David was planning to stay at his apartment that night, because he usually did. He also knew exactly why David’s eyebrows pressed together slightly.

“Okay. I’ll stay at the motel, then,” David said, going to put his earbuds back in. Patrick stopped his hand from grabbing them.

“No, stay. It’ll be fun. Like a little sleepover!” Patrick argued. Because as valid as David’s reasoning for not wanting to stay over with Stevie there was, Patrick wasn’t entirety sure if he wanted her to stay over without David there. And he also knew that it was silly for David to sleep at the Motel just because of a guest.

“Yeah, David. A little sleepover!” Stevie said, smile wide, mocking Patrick.

“You two are cute. I didn’t realize we were twelve,” David said, putting a hand on his sweater-clad hip and going back into the back room, headphones back in. He looked annoyed. Patrick hoped, he really hoped, that he wasn’t only annoyed at Patrick.

*

They were in Patrick's kitchen, after the store had closed, making pasta. Because it was a Friday night. And David wanted pasta. And Patrick really needed to please David.

“You’re mad at me,” Patrick stated after David skipped the third song in a row on the playlist Patrick had queued up. David shook his head.

“I’m not, Patrick. But I am sleeping at the Motel tonight,” David said as he stirred the noodles with a wooden spoon. Patrick stood behind him, arms crossed.

“David, please don’t,” he said, stepping forward, wrapping his arms around David’s torso. David relaxed slightly into the touch, continuing to stir the noodles that really didn’t need to be stirred that much.

“It’s fine, really. I’ll stay here late, just until you go to bed,” David said, voice tight. Patrick kissed the back of his neck.

“David,” he warned, easing David into opening up about how he was feeling. Ready to swoop in.

“I just… I can’t sleep here with her. Which is fine,” David said, finally turning, letting Patrick hold his hips, facing each other.

“I feel like it’s not fine,” Patrick said, “talk to me.”

“Well, yeah, you’re not the one who has to set an alarm for the middle of the night and wake everyone up just to take a fucking piss,” David rushed, feeling humiliated by his words. Patrick sighed. David looked flustered, redness creeping its way up his neck.

“I shouldn’t have said yes to her without asking you first. I’m sorry,” Patrick said after a moment of letting David’s words sink in. David turned again, stirring the pasta.

“It’s fine. It’s your apartment,” David said quickly, closing himself off again.

“Maybe,” Patrick said, moving to lean against the stove so David would be able to see him, “but it’s _our_ bed. And you’re _my_ fiancé.”

David’s cheeks burned now for another reason. _Our bed._ It sounded so intimate and so grownup in a kind of way David wasn’t used to feeling. David didn’t think that he’d ever share a bed with anyone. He didn’t think anyone would ever want to have a _bed with him._ Especially not now. He looked at Patrick, setting down the spoon and crossing his arms.

“She sleeps on the couch,” David said finally. Patrick smiled.

“Of course,” he responded, kissing Patrick’s cheek and moving to dump the pasta sauce into a pan, trying not to smile at the smallest breakthrough.

Stevie was allotted to arrive at Seven, after her shift, which is just about when dinner was supposed to be finished. But David was hungry, and so they decided to just save Stevie a bowl. They were cleaning up when David finally addressed the elephant in the sheets.

“What do we do if _it_ happens?” David asked as he wiped down one of the counters, not looking at Patrick. Patrick, expecting that question at some point, shrugged casually.

“Same thing as always, I guess, David,” he said, to which David dropped the sponge, rolling his eyes.

“Patrick,” he said. Patrick raised an eyebrow. He was drying a pan, pretending to be overly preoccupied.

“We’ll figure it out. And it will be okay,” Patrick assured, turning back to the pans. David sighed, and they didn’t bring it up again.

Stevie showed up with a bottle of cheap rosé as compensation a few minutes past seven, and Patrick poured them all a glass. They played a board game that Ted had bought Patrick for his birthday the previous year and drank a lot more wine (David slowly drank his one glass. He didn’t finish it.) It was a good night. The kind of night that made David feel relaxed and loved. It was the kind of night that a few months ago, David would’ve really enjoyed.

They had set up blankets and pillows on the couch for Stevie and watched a movie together before calling it quits. They were all getting _really_ old. Stevie got ready for bed in the bathroom first, followed by Patrick. David knocked on the door after a few minutes and was let in by Patrick, who had a toothbrush shoved in his mouth. He raised his eyebrows, as if to say, _yes?_

“I think I should leave,” David whispered. He was still dressed in his clothes from that day. Patrick’s heart sank. He rinsed his mouth out before trying to respond.

“David, you’re going to be okay,” Patrick whispered back, putting his hands-on David’s shoulders. He was sort of shaking under his touch, and he wasn’t looking at Patrick’s face. “But if you really don’t think you can stay, that’s okay. I won’t be mad, okay? I want you to be comfortable.” David pressed his lips together.

“I just. I need to have control over one thing, you know. I don’t know. Alexis already knows, and like three doctors know, and I just… I don’t want Stevie to know,” David finally got out.

Patrick felt really bad.

“I didn’t mean to pressure you like this, David. I didn’t think about it like that,” Patrick said, dropping his hands to rub them across his own face. David shook his head.

“It’s okay. I’ll just… I’ll stay,” David said, sounding unsure. Patrick gave him a look. “I want to be here. I really do. I just… it’s hard,” he finished, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Patrick surprised David by pulling him into a hug.

“Okay. If you change your mind, that’s okay too. I love you,” Patrick said against David’s neck. He kissed him there, as well as on his lips. Patrick smelled like mint and body milk. David felt the pressure in his chest subsiding.

David crawled into bed with Patrick fifteen minutes later after wishing a goodnight to Stevie and turning off the kitchen light. He found one of Patrick’s hands under to blankets and intertwined their fingers. It felt naïve, but it made Patrick smile. Just holding hands. David fell asleep after a while of listening to Patrick’s breathing.

*

The alarm went off at 2:30 am like always. Patrick shook David awake after the third ring, waking up Stevie in the process.

“What? What’s going on?” she groaned from the couch, sitting up, confused.

David woke up too, shifting in the darkness. Patrick kissed David’s arm to coax him into getting up. He did, sitting up quickly and walking off to the bathroom, like he did every night (when the sheets weren’t… compromised.)

“I don’t know, must’ve accidentally set an alarm,” Patrick lied as he watched the bathroom light flick on from under the closed door. Stevie groaned in response, falling back asleep easily. Patrick waited until David had crawled back into bed, and he had his arms wrapped around his fiancé, before letting himself fall back asleep too.

*

Patrick woke up at eight to Stevie folding the blankets from the couch, getting ready to leave. David was still asleep, and the bed was dry. Patrick stood gently and put on a pot of coffee for him and Stevie. She had a shift at the Motel that she was not too worried about being late for, so they chatted quietly for a little bit as Patrick put down a couple slices of bread for toast. She left after only thirty minutes, thanking Patrick for letting her stay and saying that she’d probably stop by the store later to pick some things up.

Patrick woke David up after she left (because David had become adamant that Patrick wasn’t allowed to let him sleep in anymore). The apartment was bright and warm as he opened his eyes, smelling buttered toast and Patrick’s laundry detergent.

“Morning,” Patrick said, kissing David’s head. David smiled.

They sat on the couch as they ate their toast, still in their pajamas. Patrick liked to watch the news on Saturday mornings, and David liked to watch Patrick watch the news. The way his face scrunched together.

“It’s been a week,” Patrick said after a long moment of comfortable silence, setting his empty plate down on the coffee table. He reached an arm across the back of the couch, letting his fingers play with the hair on the end of David’s neck. David gave him a look.

“A week?” he asked, confused. Patrick only nodded.

“A week since the last… you know, _incident_ ,” Patrick clarified, to which David blushed, stuffing more toast in his mouth to try and hide his face.

“That’s a stupid thing to keep track of,” David said, trying not to choke on his toast. His eyes were still fixated on the TV, even if he wasn’t at all interested in whatever sports coverage was happening.

“No, it’s not,” Patrick said, smiling slightly as he played with David’s hair. David tried to cover his own smile with another bite of toast.

Patrick liked to make David happy. He liked to make him feel safe, and wanted, and like he was allowed to say anything on his mind and not be judged for it. Patrick liked swooping in. He also just loved to make David smile. Hhe mostly just really, really loved David.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not updating in so long! i haven't forgotten. there's like 1-2 more chapter of this i'd say. let me know what you think!


	7. Lost and Found Motel Weed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go wrong before they can go right.

Therapy wasn’t necessarily something that was new for David. But it was something that he really hoped he wasn’t going to ever have to do again after his twenties (back when weekend long raves and meaningless sex and drugs were the only thing he had to talk about.) Even back then, his visits were forced and short and he actively avoided having his long string of various therapists actually _know_ him. Back then, he talked about David Rose, the son of two wealthy socialites, like it was some kind of prize to be in his presence. He never talked about himself like he did now.

And David really liked this new therapist. Her name was Megan and she had two dogs and sometimes the little brown one came to work with her and slept in the back. And David was old enough to not feel the need to run away from showing the smallest amount of human emotion when he was talking to Megan. She had a calming voice and seemed like the kind of person David could get coffee with or go to a baby shower with or something that was normal that adults did together.

It was still hard, though. Opening up to a stranger. He could barely even open up to his fiancé.

“That’s good, David,” Megan said from the chair across from David. He had just rambled off about something from forever ago that his mother had said to him that had randomly resurfaced. There was no insulting clipboard in her hands like his old therapists had as she listened. It was a safe space—like actually safe—where David didn’t feel like an exposed nerve.

And really, Megan was helping. She had already given him so much information and so much comfort in knowing that his panic attacks were just a symptom of his anxiety and not something life altering or incredibly rare and debilitating. Megan got them too. A lot of people did (David knew this, of course, but he will never forget Alexis invaliding him the way she did when he had his first panic attack. Megan did the opposite of invalidate him.)

Megan was great.

But David still couldn’t talk about the one thing that gave him the most anxiety.

When he first saw Megan, he had planned on telling her. He really had. But then he realized that he really liked Megan, enough that he wanted to keep seeing her. And there was no way in hell David was going to let someone that he had a lot of genuine respect for know _that_. Not Megan, who was a hundred pounds of blonde hair with a bouncy personality and ran a bread blog on the side.

So, David lied. Night terrors, he said. He said that he got night terrors, and that was the reason why his sleep was being interrupted. He needed some way to explain the guilt he felt for waking up Patrick. David wished that he got night terrors. That might be able to justify what was really going on.

*

Patrick didn’t understand why David hadn’t told Megan when this information accidentally slipped out during dinner one night. They were at the motel (because David did still live there, he had to remind himself, and he was running out of knits at Patrick’s and needed to get more) and so dinner consisted of an array of the family’s leftovers from the night before. Patrick had stopped him midway through the short summary of his therapy session.

“Wait, go back,” Patrick said in between a bite of lo mien he was eating with a plastic fork. The TV was playing in the background as they sat at the small table. “You told her you get night terrors?”

David tried to best not to cringe and take it all back.

“Um, Yeah. I mean. I’m not going to tell her what’s really going on,” David said with a little bit of a scoff as he moved around a piece of orange chicken in his to-go container. Patrick looked confused.

“Isn’t that like, the whole point, David?” Patrick pressed further. David’s throat was dry.

“The point is helping my anxiety,” David bit back, pretending to not be at least a little bit hurt. Patrick sighed through his nose as he took a bite of fried rice.

“I know. I just mean… aren’t you supposed to be honest in therapy? Won’t that help?” He asked once he had swallowed.

“Um, me being honest? No,” David said, finally eating his piece of chicken. But he could feel Patrick’s eyes on him and suddenly the chicken was tasteless and dry.

“Okay,” Patrick said, and they left it at that.

Patrick didn’t bring up therapy again as they finished their food, settling in on David’s bed once the game (which game it was? David had no idea) was back on. David stole one of his dad’s beers for Patrick to drink as they watched the hockey tournament or whatever it was called because they were home alone, and David didn’t like how they left off with the previous conversation. David was on his laptop, responding to emails about a future order from Brenda when the game switched to a commercial break.

Which normally he wouldn’t have paid any attention to if the commercial wasn’t for an _incontinence product home delivery service._ David only glanced up for a second before looking back to his emails and feeling heat rush to his face. Which was stupid. It didn’t matter. A commercial didn’t matter.

But Patrick was right there, sitting up next to him, with a hand on David’s thigh that suddenly felt very heavy and wrong. And they were watching the same woman in a horribly dated commercial talk about adult _diapers_. And it was very stupid for David’s chest to contract. Megan would be so disappointed.

David thought that maybe Patrick would change the channel, or awkwardly go on his phone, or take his hand off of David’s thigh. He hoped he would, anyway. But all Patrick did was clear his throat as he watched the commercial play out in front of him. That was until he heard David inhale a very shaky, very _stupid_ , breath.

“Okay,” Patrick muttered softly when he saw that David had his eyes closed behind the laptop screen. He squeezed David’s thigh. David was not working himself into a panic attack because of a commercial. He wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick said as he flipped the channel to a kid’s show. David focused on his breathing for a moment as he tried to figure out why _Patrick_ was apologizing.

“I’m fine,” David said with a tight smile that didn’t even get close to reaching his eyes. Or even his mouth, really. His eyes were opened and definitely not blurry as he went back to looking at his laptop. He opened a new tab, then immediately closed it, just trying to find something to distract himself from the pressure building in his chest.

“It’s okay to not be,” Patrick assured. But he let go of David’s thigh, and suddenly the lack of contact was making David spiral into another episode of _he doesn’t want to touch me._ Suddenly he itched to be touched. Which was stupid. He was being so, so stupid.

“I’m pretty tired, actually,” David said, quickly, moving his laptop aside and going to stand. He crossed over to the closet to pull out a pair of pajamas randomly, barely registering what he was doing. He was pretty sure they were Alexis’s pants as he walked himself unsteadily over to the bathroom.

“Okay. We can leave,” Patrick said with worried assurance that made David feel sick because why did he keep doing this to Patrick?

“I think I’ll actually just stay here,” David called from the bathroom, closing the door halfway and throwing the clothes he grabbed onto the sink, sitting down on the closed toilet lid just because he wasn’t sure if he could stand. He inhaled deeply and thought about maybe texting Megan. Would she answer? Was that allowed? No. No, David was not going to text Megan. He was going to stare at the wall with the worst possible choice of wallpaper he’d ever seen and try to get his eyes to stop tearing up.

“Honey,” Patrick said through the door. He didn’t come in. He knew better than to. He sounded sad, like Patrick always did when David was hurting. Which happened too much. David was tired of hurting.

“It’s fine. Really. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” David responded. He kept his voice neutral. Normal. He knew how to mask his voice well enough at this point. Even if Patrick saw through it. It took a long time for Patrick to give in with a sigh that sounded like it was muffled by a hand rubbing over his face.

“Okay. I love you. I’ll call you in a bit, okay?” Patrick said, still though the door. David knew how he looked, sitting in a bathroom, trying to calm himself down. He could still hear the children’s TV blaring in the background. He could hear the uncertainty in Patrick’s voice. Uncertain about what? Patrick had broken off an engagement before. _No, that’s just the anxiety, David._

An hour after Patrick left, he stayed true to his word and called David. David pretended to be asleep as the hockey game hummed in the background and he stared up at the ceiling.

*

David received a text from Stevie the following evening promising Lost and Found Motel Weed.

He was at work when he got the text, promising David two joints that Stevie found stuffed into a jacket left at the Motel. And when Patrick asked why David was smiling, Patrick asked to join them. Which was very tempting for David, because there were few things in life that David liked more than seeing his adorably babble-y fiancé high. And things had been awkward between them since last night’s incident at the Motel (which Patrick had yet to bring up.)

And so, after leaving Stevie’s house and feeling very high, they were sitting in Patrick’s apartment, drinking wine. David’s no-alcohol rule didn’t apply when he was high, he decided. Patrick wanted to watch _Saturday Night Live_ and David wanted to kiss Patrick, so they compromised, making out on the couch during _weekend update_ like two horny, high teenagers. And then it went to commercial break, and Patrick pulled apart, staring down at David.

“I feel like I should apologize,” Patrick said. He was smiling, though. He was definitely being sincere, and he wasn’t trying to pity David. No, this was different. He was trying to have a conversation with David.

“For what?” David asked, dumbly. His brain was a little foggy and his lips felt numb without Patrick’s connected to them.

“Yesterday. That commercial. I should’ve turned off the TV or something,” Patrick said, grimacing a little bit and getting fully off of David so that they were sitting next to each other. “I should’ve realized that it would be a trigger or something as soon as it started but I just…” Patrick said, trailing off. He wasn’t looking at David. He was looking at the TV, which was playing a Walgreens commercial. David was pretty high.

“Um. I don’t know. I guess. It’s not your fault, though,” he responded, slowly. Was it slowly?

“Sorry. I killed the mood, didn’t I?” Patrick suggested after a moment of neither of them saying anything. The show came back as David started to rub a hand across Patrick’s shoulders.

“You don’t have to apologize for my fucked-up way of dealing with emotions,” David responded.

“It’s not fucked up. It’s just emotions, David.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah What?”

“I don’t know. Honestly. I don’t even know what I just said.”

Apparently high Patrick wasn’t very good at keeping track of things, because before getting into bed for the night, neither of them remembered to plug their phones in (Patrick wasn’t even sure where his phone was). Which meant that the 2:30 am alarm never went off. Which meant that waking up Sunday morning wasn’t fun for either of them.

David woke up first, feeling _very_ sober. And sick to his stomach. And pretty angry. Because why would he let himself drink two glasses of wine after smoking a joint and then fall asleep without setting an alarm? That was _literally_ a recipe for disaster. He knew his body better than that at this point. He should’ve known this was going to happen.

“Patrick,” he groaned as he sat up, grossly. David had been playing a game with fate assuming that this was over with. Patrick groaned in response. David would’ve checked his phone for the time at this point if it wasn’t dead. He really hoped that the store wasn’t already supposed to be open. _God, David fucked everything up again._

“Patrick, wake up,” He tried again, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and cringing as he felt the wet sheets below him. He stopped an apology from slipping out because Patrick had become very adamant that David didn’t need to apologize. David really felt like he should apologize. Patrick still wasn’t waking up.

“Patrick, get up, please,” David said, louder this time. David finally saw Patrick’s eyes open. As soon as he locked eyes with David, he sat up.

“Shit. Shit, what time is it?” Patrick slurred, sitting up, realizing what had happened. His face remained neutral as he looked around for a phone he wasn’t going to find.

“I don’t know,” David said, standing and making his way towards the bathroom. He wasn’t even upset. He was just frustrated. Because it had been so long. Was it okay to blame this on Stevie?

“I’m sorry, David. I can’t find my phone,” Patrick called out through the apartment as he started to collect the bedding.

“No. If I don’t get to apologize, neither do you,” David called back before starting the water for his shower, not wanting to finish that conversation.

*

It was 8:38 am, David came to find out, after exiting the bathroom to find Patrick dressed and sitting on the couch, bed stripped. David gave him a half smile before pouring himself a cup of coffee that he just went ahead and filled to the brim. Because _Sundays._ He took a pill out from where his meds were sitting on the counter, drinking it down with the coffee. He had given up on avoiding caffeine in the mornings a week ago.

“I shouldn’t have said that stuff about your therapy, David,” Patrick said, breaking the silence. David gulped around his black coffee as he stood in the kitchen.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you can tell your therapist whatever you want. And I’m glad that you feel comfortable to talk to me about your sessions even a little bit. I don’t have any right to try to tell you what you can and can’t say,” Patrick said, huffing out. He was still sitting, with his hands folded in his lap. Clearly this was something that had been bothering him.

“Oh. Okay. Thank you,” David responded. The caffeine hadn’t yet woken up his very groggy brain and he had already gone through like thirty emotional battles this morning alone. Patrick nodded.

“I mean it, David,” Patrick said, standing.

“I know you do,” David responded, setting down his mug to let Patrick come up to him and pull his waist towards him, kissing him quickly.

“Come on,” Patrick said, gesturing David towards the bedroom section and towards the area of Patrick’s closet that was David’s clothes. “Get dressed. We’re celebrating,” Patrick finished, crossing back over to the couch. David quirked his eyebrows, gesturing to the towel on his head.

“I will need a lot more time to get ready, which I think you know, but can I ask what we’re celebrating?” David asked as he looked lazily through the sweaters hung in the tiny closet. He ran his hand over one of Patrick’s sweaters and felt himself wanting to put it on just to smell like him. If it wasn’t polyester, he might’ve.

“Remember last night when you rambled about wanting donuts?” Patrick asked as he organized a few things on the coffee table.

“Obviously,” David responded as he pulled down an outfit that would work.

“I thought it might be nice to get a few before the store opens,” Patrick said with a smile. David couldn’t help but smile back, even if he tried not to.

“That still doesn’t explain what we’re celebrating?” David asked, getting suspicious. It wasn’t a birthday. Or a holiday. Maybe it was? David needed to listen more.

“We’re celebrating two weeks without an incident,” Patrick said casually. David stood still. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard him correctly. Patrick continued to organize his living area as he explained. “Last night doesn’t count. We were high and our phones were dead, so. I’m not counting it,” Patrick said. There was a brief moment where David didn’t react at all and Patrick thought that maybe he overstepped. That maybe teasing like that, and playing one of their games, was off limits when it came to this. And then David smiled, rolling his eyes back.

“It counts, Patrick,” David said as he shook his hair down from under the towel, turning around to get dressed.

“Do you want donuts or not?”

“Obviously, I do.”

*

That following Friday, David told Megan everything. Megan wasn’t disappointed. Because why would she be? David told her about the _trigger_ , as Patrick had put it, and things became a lot clearer for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to play around with david and therapy and it being a beneficial thing, but not a complete fix. i also wanted to write them high. one more chapter left! it'll wrap up everything and make everything okay because i feel like i've put david through hell honestly. also that commercial is a real commercial i saw and thought to myself... david would hate this


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bachelor party, the wedding, and the new home.

Two weeks (not including the minor hiccup) eventually turned into a month. And then another month. And then they both agreed to stop setting a middle-of-the-night alarm. Even then, things still were still okay. Even back to normal. Patrick went as far as threatening to buy David a 2-month anniversary cookie (he didn’t, but David knew he wasn’t at all joking). And Then suddenly their wedding was around the corner. And their Bachelor party was too.

If someone had asked a much younger David if he’d ever see himself wearing an _I’m stupid_ T-shirt surrounded by his family and a girl who works at a motel at a local bar for his bachelor party, he probably would’ve cried. But a much older David was so happy. And drunk. Very, very drunk. Because Stevie kept handing him shots and he was having way too much fun to say no. She then drove the very drunk David and Patrick home at 2 am after the party had finally settled and made them drink plenty of water before leaving the two drunk, very much in love idiots to their own devices.

“We should set an alarm,” Patrick called out from the bathroom as he finished brushing his teeth. David was sitting on the couch, trying to untie his shoes.

“We’re getting old. I’m getting old,” David replied. Patrick wasn’t sure if David had heard him. He stuffed his tooth brush in its holder and made his way to the couch. David was on his back, one shoe off. Patrick sat down, throwing David’s legs over his own and untying the other shoe.

“We’re not that old,” Patrick replied with half a grin, pulling off the shoe and patting David’s sock-clad foot. David hummed.

“I’m glad I get to feel old with you,” David mumbled, sitting up now that his shoes had been successfully removed.

“I’m glad you get to feel old with me too,” Patrick replied, leaning over to kiss David. It was brief, and David flopped back down as soon as it was over.

“Stevie kept giving me shots,” David said after a moment, hands covering his face.

“Stevie kept giving me shots too,” Patrick said. His head was spinning in all sorts of directions. There was a brief moment of silence where all either of them could hear was the ringing in their ears.

“We should just sleep here.”

“On the couch?” Patrick asked with a laugh. David was still wearing his ‘I’m stupid’ shirt and for some reason Patrick did not want him to take it off. Maybe because of how well it fit him. Maybe because of what it said.

“Yeah,” David replied, sleepily. His eyes were closed.

“We should really set an alarm, David,” Patrick said again.

“Why? _Oh_ ,” David said, definitely hearing him this time and realizing what he meant.

“And we probably shouldn’t sleep on the couch,” Patrick continued. David could definitely read between the lines now and he started to sit up again. His head was spinning too. Everything was spinning, really.

“Probably not,” David replied, biting his tongue to not say anything snarky like he really wanted to. Patrick stood up too, following David’s lead. They fumbled to the bed together, both of them sort of stumbling in a drunken haze that led them to being wrapped up in each other’s arms and laughing.

“I really liked tonight. Even with my family,” David said at some point in between the two of them getting settled. Patrick’s head was on his chest, which was still clad in their matching black shirts.

“It was perfect,” Patrick replied.

Patrick meant it. It was perfect. But David couldn’t help but feel a pang on guilt and embarrassment as Patrick pulled out his phone before they both shut off the lights and set an alarm for a few hours later. Just to wake David up. _Just in case._ Because even after successfully moving past the need to set an alarm, Patrick knew that it was better to be safe than sorry with the amount they had had to drink. And that was _so fucking humiliating._

And it wasn’t like it was unwarranted. David knew that. But he wished so badly that this whole thing wasn’t always going to be in the back of their minds. He wished that him joking about sleeping on the couch didn’t have to be a joke. He wished that Patrick didn’t know him well enough to have to set the fucking alarm again.

And so even though David was exhausted, drunk, and still very happy, he couldn’t sleep. Not with his fiancé lying next to him on a plastic sheet preparing for the inevitable (even if it had been over 2 months). Insomnia was an unfortunate side effect of his anxiety medication that happened from time to time. He tried to put all of his anxieties to the back of his mind and focus on the sound of the air conditioning humming, or Patrick’s light snoring. But even with his head spinning from such a great night, he couldn’t sleep. The alarm went off after a few hours of him waiting for his body to pass out, and after not sleeping for even a minute, David pretended to wake up and go to the bathroom while Patrick shut it off. But even after getting back into bed with his sleeping fiancé, he just couldn’t sleep.

David gave up at around ten in the morning, well after the sun had risen (the store was closed in lieu of both of them deciding that they were going to be hungover all day) and he slowly got out of bed, not wanting to wake up Patrick. The apartment was too cold, and David felt gross and even more hungover than normal. Probably because of the insomnia but the 12+ shots he had still floating around in his system definitely didn’t help. So, he took a quick shower, hoping to wash off all the alcohol (and maybe some of the sleep deprivation). He was so exhausted he could barely stand.

He was no chef, but David had learned, at the hands of Patrick, to make a few things for himself. Starting with coffee. He was stirring a pan full of scrambled eggs around in the pan as he drank down the first cup when he heard Patrick begin to stir.

“Oh God. My head,” Patrick said as soon as he was sitting up. “Are you cooking?” he asked David, starting to walk over to the kitchen.

“Advil is on the coffee table. And yes,” David replied. He tried to keep his voice light, happy. Which he was. He was happy. But he was also so, so tired.

“What did I do to get this lucky?” Patrick replied, swinging back two of the pills with a glass of water and slugging over to David.

“It’s really just eggs,” he replied with a smile, letting go of the pan handle for a moment to let Patrick kiss him. He grimaced.

“You smell like you drank the entire bar,” David said, stepping back and turning his attention back to the eggs. Patrick laughed.

“I think I may have,” he said as he ducked into the bathroom, leaving the door open. David shoveled the eggs onto two plates as he heard Patrick brush his teeth. Once his teeth were cleaned, Patrick went to find a new shirt that hadn’t been worn for over twelve hours.

“Is everything okay?” Patrick asked once he was in a clean shirt. David was buttering toast.

“What do you mean?” David responded, innocently, pretending like his whole body didn’t ach and he wasn’t pathetically exhausted.

“You showered,” Patrick said, sitting at the table in front of the steaming plate of eggs. David, four pieces of toast in hand, joined him. He cleared his throat.

“I felt gross,” he responded with a shrug, starting to eat his food.

“Okay. I wasn’t sure if something had happened,” Patrick said as he picked up his fork. David set his down, narrowing his eyes. He wasn’t sure if Patrick meant what he thought he meant. He wasn’t sure if he should feel offended by it if he _did_ mean _that_. All David knew was that he had spent the entire night lying in bed overthinking _that_ exact problem to the extent of self-induced insomnia.

“You weren’t sure if _something had happened_?” David defended. Like, really defended. David decided that he probably shouldn’t be offended. But his head hurt, and he was still like 35% tequila, so any kind of belittling felt like a criminal offense.

“David. You know what I mean,” Patrick said with a little bit of a sigh, which only furthered David’s distrust of this conversation.

“Um, yeah. You made what you mean pretty clear last night,” David replied, shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth. He knew he was being unfair. But he was just so damn _tired_.

“What does that mean?” Patrick said, seriously. David tried to fight off the urge to cry. Why did he feel like _crying?_

“When I made that joke about sleeping on the couch. It was obviously a joke. And then you insisted on setting an alarm!” David argued, swallowing hard. He took a drink of water, swallowing down the lump in his throat as well. Patrick let out a real sigh this time.

“David. I was just looking out for you. Why are you so upset?” Patrick asked, genuinely. It was then that Patrick finally got a good look at his fiancé. His eyes were puffy and a little red, and even wet, his hair wasn’t well kept or put together. Patrick frowned.

“Can we just eat?” David said, averting eye contact.

“Did you sleep last night?” Patrick asked, softening his voice.

“Yes,” David lied.

“You don’t look like you slept.”

David dropped his fork (somewhat) dramatically.

“I’m fine. Can we just eat? I just wanted us to have a nice breakfast. Because last night was one of the best night of my life and I thought it would be nice to have breakfast,” David said, feeling his eyes fill with frustrated, exhausted tears despite his best efforts.

“It _is_ nice,” Patrick said after a beat, reaching out and taking one of David’s hands, “why didn’t you sleep?” David should’ve realized that despite his best hungover efforts, Patrick saw him. He always saw him. There was a long pause where David forced himself to not cry. He blinked away the tears, not looking at Patrick.

“You know why.” There was another beat before he continued. “I tried to. I just couldn’t,” David said, letting Patrick stroke his left hand with his thumb as he brought his other hand up to wipe at his eyes.

“David, I’m sorry. I just wanted to look out for you,” Patrick said. David watched the steam continue to rise from their barely touched eggs. He shook his head.

“Fuck. No, _I’m_ sorry. I just… I hate that this is still something we have to think about,” David said, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. Patrick squeezed his hand.

“I know. But you also know that I don’t mind,” Patrick said, grabbing his fork again and continuing to eat.

“Okay. I know,” David responded with a sigh, shaking his head. God, his head hurt.

“How about we finish eating and you try and actually get some sleep?” Patrick suggested, to which David nodded, picking up his own fork. Once the dishes were cleared and the food was eaten, David got back into bed (with Patrick promising to wake him up in a few hours). And David finally slept. 

*

The wedding was somehow everything David wanted while also being a complete disaster. Which summed up the last few years of his life pretty decently. But despite it all, it was still perfect. And that night (whether or not anyone got much sleep) was perfect too. There was no little issue that arose, and just like Patrick had promised months earlier, they were far too happy to even remember there was ever an issue.

There was one night, however, three weeks after the wedding, when the apartment was in boxes and they were planning to start the move into the new house early in the morning, when David woke up to wet sheets.

“I’m sure that this is just a fluke,” Patrick said once David was showered.

“I know—”

“And it’s really okay if this happens from time to time, David,” Patrick continued as he was taping up a box.

“Yes, I know—”

“And you know I’ll never care—”

“Patrick. I know, honey. Thank you. I’m okay, really,” David finally cut in, walking over to Patrick and grabbing his gaze. David was smiling at how flustered Patrick looked as he stood behind his pile of boxes. Patrick looked taken aback for a brief moment before matching David’s smile.

“Oh. Okay,” Patrick said through a sigh.

“Okay. Now hurry up and tape up that box, Stevie’s almost here.”

David rolled his eyes as he watched his husband do just that.

*

They somehow managed to drag in half of Schitt’s Creek to help with the move. Even Ronnie, who was bribed with cheese, came to help out. It was a decent sized house for two people, but between the two of them, they didn’t have very much to move in, and the house felt a little empty. Maybe that was just David missing his family. With the help of their friends, everything was moved in in no time, and Patrick and David set up a picnic on the floor (even though they did have a dining room table) to commemorate the successful move. David spent the whole picnic rambling about the color palettes of each room while Patrick nodded along in amusement.

David was the one who insisted on buying a mattress pad for their new (very expensive) mattress in the new house. Patrick didn’t say anything as they made their new bed for the first time and finally laid down together. Finally feeling settled, Patrick’s head was on David’s chest, wrapped in a serine silence as a vanilla candle burned through their new bedroom (that actually had four walls and no sister for a roommate).

“This is my third favorite night. Ever,” David murmured into Patrick’s hair. It was hardly 8pm, but they were both exhausted. And blissful.

“I’m hoping our wedding night is your first favorite?” Patrick said with a smile that David couldn’t see but knew was there.

“Yes. Our bachelor party is my second,” David said.

“Even though you didn’t sleep at all and we fought the next morning?” Patrick asked. David shifted below him a little bit so that he could see Patrick’s face.

“We didn’t fight. We were just working things out,” David argued, but held onto Patrick tighter, like he was still afraid that at some point, Patrick was going to let go. Patrick hummed in response and there was a moment before he spoke again.

“I think my favorite night will always be your birthday,” he said, muffled slightly by David’s shirt.

“When I kissed you?” David asked, teasing.

“Mhm. When you kissed me.”

They fell into another silence, and for a moment David thought that Patrick may have fallen asleep. But after a few minutes, Patrick took his head off of David’s chest and sat up, looking down at him. David lowered his eyebrows.

“Do you remember what you said… the first time, you know, _it_ happened?” Patrick asked, completely throwing David off. David felt heat rise to his cheeks, because _come on,_ they were having a nice moment. But he ignored his own embarrassment to shake his head.

“Um. No?” David responded.

“You, uh, you asked about us getting a divorce,” Patrick said, his voice low and _sad_. David’s eyes softened, and he let Patrick continue. “I just… I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Because I know you know that I’ll always love you. But I just… I need to hear you say it.”

“Oh. Um. Say what?” David asked, unsure. Patrick was still sitting up and staring at him with these puppy dog eyes that absolutely melted his heart. His heart was already melting just thinking about Patrick worrying about something David had brushed off months ago. More like convulsing, actually.

“I need to you to promise me that you’ll never put divorce back on the table because of something about yourself that you can’t change. Something that isn’t your fault,” Patrick said, slowly. David’s entire face was probably bright red by now. But he nodded, slowly. Because that was the sweetest thing Patrick had probably ever said to David.

“I promise that I’ll never divorce you because of something that I can’t change,” David responded, to which Patrick smiled, laying his head back down.

“I know this hasn’t been easy on you, but I’ll always be here,” Patrick said, eyes closed this time, letting his head rise and fall with David’s chest. He could hear David’s heart beating below him. David wasn’t good with his words or emotions, not like Patrick was. But he was working on it. And even though Patrick hadn’t said much, he felt so, so seen. And loved. David ran a hand up and down Patrick’s back as he held on, kissing his head.

“I love you,” he said into Patrick’s short, slightly curling hair. He smelled like home. Even in a new house, on a new bed, with his family thousands of miles away, David was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, that's all! thanks for anyone who's been reading. you're all awesome. this got a lot more support than i expected, so thank you all so much! i hope i could bring at least a little bit of joy into someone's world right now. stay strong!


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